


quo fata ferunt

by ExtractRevengeance



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Friendship, Hints of time/dimension travel, Other, Reincarnation, Self-Insert, Unreliable Narrator, basically one of those dumb isekai novels except i unironically love that trope so i'm writing it, but not actually a self-insert, oc-insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-01-06 03:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 58,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExtractRevengeance/pseuds/ExtractRevengeance
Summary: She is in a world that’s not her own.(A future that seems carved in stone, gaps in memory where there shouldn’t be, unanswered questions and uncertain choices that only seem to lead to an inevitable path—)She will make the best of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i don’t know why ao3 hates the “oc-insert” tag but whatever… esther is not me because i’m not even a girl LOL anyway first fic please be kind
> 
> thanks to @frostglitch for editing/proofreading this and being a sounding board! this is rly more like a crossover between their story and fe3h bc i was hit by emotions for both of them at the same time. this fic originally wasn’t gonna be posted so there’s a lot of references to esther’s story but it won’t matter to you guys unless you’re super critical of her abilities/backstory… which is hinted at and will be explained but not in great detail. maybe. we're not gonna go deep into esther's traumas/problems bc we don't have time to unpack all of That
> 
> (EDIT: 8Dec19) now, as for pairings! i have no idea. i mean, i love claude, i love esther, there's _some_ happenings. frost gave me the permission but who knows... might leave it ambiguous. romance isn't the focus, in part bc i don't know how to write romance and so am enlisting friends to help me write this, but also because i figured it'd be fun to see just how things turn out !

_ The points of light against the darkness, as though a trio of stars against the evening sky. _

_ “Do you remember me?” _

* * *

Esther von Nuvelle, seventeen-year-old noble daughter of Viscount Nuvelle, lounges in her childhood home’s sitting room. A finger taps incessantly into the imperfect wood of an armrest, her chin propped on her other hand as she sinks further into both the couch and her thoughts.

House Nuvelle is a fallen household barely a ghost of what it once seemed. Both metaphorically and literally, it was left in splinters and rubble following the war four years ago, first due to the invading armies tearing through their meagre forces and the landscape, then the imperial rule stripping them of all but name due to their betrayal and failure to secure the lands they held.

Leonidas von Nuvelle, Esther’s uncle and the then Viscount, was put to death, a punishment accepted willingly after the deaths of his wife and children. The lands once governed by Nuvelle, the wealth accumulated over the years, the connections, the agreements—all was lost. And so the viscounty in name only was left in the hands of Francis von Nuvelle and wife Elise von Nuvelle, with their daughter as heir apparent of the noble facade.

Esther shifts on the sofa so she’s lying straight across it, as though a corpse laid out in the morgue. _Ironic symbolism in real life. _

Her life isn’t bad. Short the conveniences she had as someone living in the modern day of her previous life, she’s still nobility here, regardless of the loss of fortune. She still has food, shelter, and is without the immediate need to sell herself—whether that be in the three-job minimum-wage worker’s life she’d already been experiencing, or in the more commonly known definition. It could certainly be worse.

She wouldn’t do well on her own as she is. Even between the memories of both lives, she hardly knows the world outside of walls of Esther’s childhood home. Her life is modest but comfortable. Even still… Dangerous. Living here, in the Adrestian Empire, is dangerous.

“Esther von Nuvelle” only recently regained memories of a previous life. She was not the daughter of an impoverished noble household, but a working-class student only into her first year of university in an attempt to make a stable living for herself.

The memories are a disjointed jumble of information, too much and lacking clarity. The life here is a similar state, and even though she remembers enough to recognize the situation, it’s not all there—mere indistinct thoughts, feelings, of who she thinks she once was before her old life came rushing back. The “her” of “before” and “after” don’t make much sense, but the basics of her position are easy enough to figure out.

The “Esther von Nuvelle” she was before had only the most basic of sword and spearmanship ability, and was decent in both applications of magic. She had been studious, but that hardly helps when she can’t remember it. The knowledge she can recall from another life wouldn’t be helpful to her without appropriate tools. In summary, what she has is not enough to survive on her own.

For that reason, leaving the continent is not an option. But so is living out the rest of her life in this household, whether that’s because she knows her current parents are aiming to push her off onto a more elevated noble, or because the empire is to be plunged into war whether or not the red emperor herself emerges victorious. It’s too dangerous, especially with a lacking sense of familiarity with the world around her.

It’s very different, immersing oneself in a world as an observer watching fiction in play, versus ending up as an inhabitant of what was supposed to be a mere story.

“Lady Esther?”

Esther cracks open one eye and the maid—Abelia, if she recalls correctly—jumps, expression an odd mixture of what she thinks is worry and nerves. It looks odd, on the usually composed woman. Esther sits up and pats down her skirts.

“Is something wrong? Would my lady like to return to her chambers to rest?”

Esther turns to regard her, the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind. Their household has so few servants that she could count them with only her two hands and have fingers left over, but even so, they are hard workers. And the Esther of before could rely on them.

She stands. “I’m going to go for a walk. But before that, I would like a glass of water.”

“Certainly.“

“And please bring it up to my father’s study. There is something I wish to discuss with him.”

* * *

She doesn't get to meet with Francis that day. She also doesn't get to meet with him for another two days, because anytime she tries to talk to him, he happens to be out from the manse. So she has Abelia schedule a meeting with him.

Francis doesn’t immediately agree with her going to Garreg Mach, which isn’t surprising. They don’t have the funds to spend on her admission, and “Esther” truly didn’t have any outstanding talents to warrant her attendance.

Esther von Nuvelle is average in magic, adept in the theory but struggling with the manifestation. She is below average in the spear, and she has some vague memories of using the sword.

The overview of her abilities makes her smile without genuine feeling.

She could promise to “work very hard,” which she really intends to do, but she also knows that isn’t enough.

What she does say, balanced by a placid smile and relaxed shoulders, is this: “Garreg Mach could be an opportunity to meet many eligible nobles and individuals of caliber. I’ll bring home a husband.”

She, very carefully, does not choke on her own bullshit as she speaks.

It works well enough. Francis says he will think on it, and if she manages to obtain a scholarship or a recommendation within two years, he will let her attend.

The year is 1179, spring. She has barely over a year for her plan to be put into effect, anyway, so the two year limit is neither here nor there.

* * *

Magic here is separated into two main categories: Faith and Reason. Faith, as the name implies, is something more spiritual, connected to the Goddess as it is, whereas Reason is more about drawing power from oneself to use in magic. At least, that's what the books say. The knowledge hidden in the memories from this life tell her that it’s the direct conversion of magic into offensive attacks and healing spells, regardless of source—energy given physical form and force.

But actually putting it in practice, she realizes she can’t use Faith magic at all … And she may have, _ accidentally_, shot a fireball the size of a small castle into the sky, the heat disrupting the air and humidity and causing the weather to take an abrupt turn for the unexpected.

It wasn’t surprising she was found out and scolded for it, after the initial shock wore off—but artificially created rainstorm aside, she was quite proud of herself! Better the sky than the rather flammable forest, or worse, their home. Moreover, near-death aside, knowing that she has this kind of potential greatly shifts her future prospects into more favorable territory.

She has some theories about why her magic is so imbalanced, and particularly strong in Reason. Some seem less realistic than others despite giving her an odd certainty about their truth, and as a whole, she’s confused about her strangely potent magic. But the main point is that she, apparently, has quite a bit of potential in Reason, regardless of the likely otherworldly cause.

She still works on her swordsmanship despite her apparent aptitude in Reason. Magic… is something she isn’t as excited about as she thinks she should be, but she attributes that to her situation. Things that are familiar also feel distant, while things that aren’t and shouldn’t be familiar, also… are.

Whatever her odd feelings on the subject, being good at Reason isn’t enough. What if she ends up in a situation where she can’t use it? What if her magic is sealed, or it’s too dangerous to use something so destructive and flashy?

The latter is a matter of control, which she does work on, but the former would leave her completely defenseless. And that’s precisely why she works on her physical ability, too, in swordplay and muscle training.

Swords are not as familiar to her as hand-to-hand might be, as carrying weapons wasn’t a socially acceptable form of self-defense in her previous life, but they are at least more so than spears. And though her memories of swordsmanship are much hazier than her spearmanship, she just feels more comfortable with a sword in her hand.

(It’s a good way to train her muscles in combat without outright brawling, which she feels would not be allowed. Because, ultimately, in the event that she did find herself in a hostile situation, her fists are quicker than her sword.)

They don’t have the gold for private instructors, but between old notes of Esther’s from when she apparently _ did _ have tutors, muscle memory, her training regimen from her previous life, and the steward Arne’s instruction, she’s able to fill in the gaps.

It’s familiar, almost comforting, if she has to put a word to it all. She has memories of a body with innumerable restrictions, and it’s not _ great _ here, but her constitution is healthier than before and capable of much even despite the minimal training. She’s used to a routine of studying and careful exercises, so despite the subject matter being different, it’s something she’s able to slip into with ease.

If it weren’t for the fact this was all with survival in mind she could even call it fun.

“My lady, _ what _ are you _ doing._”

Esther pauses in her stretch, foot just over her shoulder. Abelia stares at her with an expression of barely concealed horror, her face a pale shade that looks almost sickly.

Esther moves out of the position with ease—she’s been working on it for a while here, but once again, she’s thankful for the potential this body has—and sits cross-legged instead, a less traumatizing position for the unwitting onlooker. She hopes.

“Perhaps my lady would like to take a break,” Abelia says, pulling Esther’s attention back to her. Her voice sounds strained. “I can set out some tea in the sitting room.”

Esther tilts her head to the side in consideration before smiling, nodding agreement. She watches Abelia sketch a stiff bow before leaving, then stands to dust off her pants and stretch.

It seems a little odd to Esther that Abelia would make such a big deal of something as minor as this, when there are plenty of other instances she believes the head maid should have been more flustered about. For instance, how she fried the gardens with an overcharged thunder spell, or the near decapitation of both Arne and herself when she swung her sword too wide and the blade snapped, or the time she tried tinkering with the mechanisms of a clock to see if she could replicate some devices from her old world and ended up blowing up half the room, the disastrous fireball from her first experiment with magic … All of these events were far more notable than this.

Each time, Abelia had been rather placid-faced, maybe her eyes were wider than usual but she’d been otherwise as calm and collected as ever. Moreover, the rest of the staff were also somehow completely at ease despite the chaos Esther has brought upon them in her experimenting.

But perhaps the most surprising is that her parents have yet to catch word of any of this.

She doesn’t know how Arne and Abelia keep that information from her parents. Francis spends most of his time in the town, certainly, and Elise stays with her maiden family for the most part, since their marital relations aren’t very good. But it still seems a little ridiculous that they haven’t learned about _ any _ of the events that have occurred at the manse by Esther’s hands.

Esther doesn’t know how they do it, honestly. Sure she doesn’t remember much about her parents in this life, but she has vague recollection of being disciplined and ruled with an iron fist when not altogether neglected. They weren’t always present, but still ... _ attentive _... to what their daughter was doing.

If she were to be honest, she might’ve preferred that they find out about the recent events, if only to help nudge her in the path of Garreg Mach Monastery, whether it’s due to a sense of pride in their “gifted” daughter, or because the hell she’s raised into the world of the living needs to be tempered. But it might also come with restrictions, and Esther actually very much enjoys the unexpected freedom she has now.

Regardless, her life is one of dedicated training and study, reminding her of some of her last memories in that previous world. Arne, apparently rather adept in the spear and riding, makes a good teacher and sparring partner, however soft he has to make his blows due to her still-lacking ability. Abelia helps her with the theoreticals of magic, having deeply intuitive considerations for Reason despite not having formal training, and generally tempers some of Esther’s more dangerous ideas.

In-between her training and study, she proceeds with other parts of her plan. “Esther” didn’t have very many connections to others due to her family’s status being in the dirt, and as she is now, she doesn’t feel any particular attachment to her family, the only connections she could be said to have. She has no choice regarding Garreg Mach, but she otherwise wants to be self-sufficient where she can.

She starts by trying to win over the staff, which is significantly easier than she expects. She already figured as much in the case of Arne and Abelia, but the cooks and maids were also already fond of her. It was a distant sort of fondness brought about by her apparently quiet and obedient childhood and temperament that aimed to please.

“I remember when you were a very young child, earnestly asking questions, always seeking answers about the world around you,” Arne tells her, unrelated to her question on practical application of wind magic. “As you grew older, you matured... withdrew, but I am glad you have more life to you once again.”

“It’s nice to see you more lively,” Abelia says another day, out of the blue. “You’ve always been rather silent, even as a child. Such a stoic demeanor in a child isn’t exactly common, but I suppose it was a matter of comfort.”

It paints a sad picture. Esther is no longer that girl, though.

Their house ceased being the lord of the Nuvelle lands years ago. Officially, they are simply under Adrestian rule, with Francis being the middleman regarding the management. In practice, the lands are overseen by the neighboring lords Arundel and Ochs, with Francis not even being an official figurehead. It’s because of this unstable rule that bandits are an issue.

Following the Dagda and Brigid War, not all the towns in the Nuvelle territory were destroyed. More than two-thirds of the population still survived, though many vacated both in grief and for further survival. Despite this, a few towns and settlements still remain due to the natural resources of the land, and they are beset by bandits almost constantly.

Neither Arundel or Ochs deal with them, of course. They collect the taxes, and public works fall under their purview, but the matters of bandits aren’t viewed as a responsibility. That rests firmly with the house sharing the name of the lands, but Francis is both too destitute and stingy to spare even an ounce of effort.

She plies both Arne and Abelia with wide eyes and the argument of wanting to help_. _

“Please. I’ve become much stronger, and the people of Nuvelle are struggling. I wish to do what I can.”

It takes some effort, but eventually, Arne relents—even to her caveat that her parents not be informed of her intent, instead being told that their daughter wishes to go on a vacation. Considering the other things that have been hidden from them, she supposes she shouldn’t be surprised that Arne doesn’t bat an eye to this either. His own requirement, is that she bring Abelia with her as a precaution.

“Abelia is the most capable fighter amongst us after myself,” he informs at her confused query. “Should things go wrong, I know you will at least be in her capable hands. No matter your efforts, you have not experienced battle.”

Well, of course. Esther wasn’t planning on outright battle to begin with, and even if it did come to it, she intended to fall back on her magic. Her purpose is to gauge her battle-readiness, not death.

Regardless, she’s packed up and leaving with Abelia within the week. Arne hands her an iron sword—not like the wooden one she’s been training with, an _ actual _ sword—and somehow, she feels comforted by the weight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> words cannot describe how fuckign terrified i am of people reading this jgklfdjfkgfj


	2. Chapter 2

_ “I won’t fail.” _

_ . . . . . _

_ “I can’t fail.” _

_ . . . . _

_ “I don’t want to fail.” _

_ . . . _

_ “I …” _

* * *

The trip to the first town takes two days. Esther’s feet hurt by the end of it, even though she doesn’t feel the bone-deep exhaustion that comes from a solid workout, and Abelia looks as pristine as usual.

_ I need to work on stamina, _ Esther notes, trying not to die between breaths.

They had both changed into travelling-wear a few hours before reaching the town for the sake of not drawing attention. Her outfit is significantly more comfortable than the layered petticoats and skirts, but the leather armor she wears coupled with her weapons add more weight than she is used to.

When the town is a perceivable shape in the distance, Abelia stops her to ask, “What is your plan?”

It’s nice to be able to speak a bit more casually, Esther thinks. “I wanted to observe,” she replies. “Gather information, about the town, the bandits, the frequency of attacks, the locations, the methods. But I wanted to see how you proceed with this, since I’m…”

She trails off, but Abelia thankfully knows her unspoken meaning. “Then I’ll lead the way. I… don’t know if you’ll quite agree with my methods, but I will protect you. If anything discomforts you, tap on my shoulder and I’ll remove us from the situation.”

Esther smiles. She appreciates the concern, but the point of this excursion is to familiarize herself with what life as someone _ not _ noble might be like, in this world. There would be little point if she’s coddled even now.

She’s also curious about just how capable Abelia is. She doesn’t doubt that she has ability, but the woman hardly looks half a decade older than her. On the other hand, her demeanor is both discerning and strict, which makes her seem quite a bit older. Ultimately, her actual age is a mystery to Esther.

She blinks when Abelia lifts something towards her, wrapped and about the length of her forearm.

“It’s a dagger,” Abelia answers the silent question. “Arne gave you a sword, but for quick reactions, a dagger is better.”

Esther smiles to hide her skepticism. “Is that wise? A weapon is well and good, but if the wielder doesn’t know how to use it…”

“Even an untrained child could use a dagger if pressed. The point is that a sword might be too unwieldy in certain situations, and if your enemy has you pinned, that dagger may save your life.” Abelia pushes the wrapped blade into her hand. “Besides, I believe this may be safer for you to use than the sword.”

_ … Isn’t that like saying I have no ability in swordsmanship? _

Esther feels her smile twitch, and she turns to secure the dagger on her belt. _ Well, nothing worth having was ever easily obtained. _

_ … It still kinda hurts to acknowledge. _

When they are close enough to the town that Esther can see the movement of people in the streets, she takes the time to get a measure of her surroundings. Both for the sake of mapping out the terrain, should they run into conflict, but also just… to look.

It’s the first time she’s been outside of their immediate home since her memories were thrown into disarray. There are qualities to the foliage around them that speak familiar to a certain part of her mind; the roads, the trees, the grass, the wildflowers, the hazy outline of mountains in the distance. The quiet sounds that surround them, the feel of the wind on her face, the crunch of gravel and dirt underfoot.

Full-bodied clouds drift overhead, the undersides cast by shadows. The pale grey is a stark contrast against the sky’s void-like blue.

_ Everything is the same. _

“This brings back memories,” Abelia comments, the makings of a smile on her face.

Esther shakes the thought from her mind, refocusing. “Memories?”

Abelia nods. “Yes. The two of us never travelled together, of course, but the late Madam and I would travel like this often.” She turns back to the road ahead of them. “Apparently she brought you out on separate excursions too.”

Esther gives a noncommittal hum instead of replying. She files away the information for later.

They reach the town, and the first place Abelia leads them is the bar. Esther remains her shadow and listens as the barkeeper gives an uncensored list of grievances regarding the local thieves and the lack of any help from their lord.

“Tch, nobles.” He waves a fist in the air, a snarl on his lips. “They order us this and that, take our gold, and for what? We’ve sent couriers to request help, and none of them have been answered. One of our guys didn’t even return. This problem has been going on for _ months. _ If we had the time or the manpower, we’d go up and kill the useless lot.”

His impromptu speech has the patrons rallying in a commiserating call, agreement and anger ringing out through the room.

This has Abelia side-eyeing Esther, but she keeps her eyes forward with a placid smile. Beyond the sympathy she feels for the village under a negligent lord, she doesn’t feel anything like offense over the apparent besmirching of or threat to her family.

Family. The word itself is distant.

They learn that the bandits hadn't struck in over two weeks, which is suspicious. The frequency ranges from every few days to a week, and the prolonged silence has everyone on edge in anticipation. Raids typically flow in from the northeast, but they’re usually in situations where people’s savings or livestock are found missing after the night.

The barkeeper has no other information to provide, but offers that they speak to a man named Samuel, who is apparently one of the men in charge of manning the gates.

They track him down near the edge of town, and he has this to say: “Yeah, they usually travel in groups of three or four, and sneak in to steal our stuff from under our noses. The last raid was last month, and the leader said it was punishment for us getting in over ourselves. They killed Alli, and Iz was…”

Abelia cuts in, “Where’s their base?”

Samuel scratches his head. “Not too sure. They always attack from the northeastern wall, ‘cuz the barriers are weaker there, but I dunno if that’s also in the direction of their hideout.”

Esther considers this. “No one ever went to investigate?”

“Well, yeah,” he replies, “I went round with Ed once, and a couple kilometers to the west we found somethin’ that might’ve been their hideout… But we didn’t want to get too close. Could’ve been dangerous, on our own.”

After compiling the information they’ve gathered, Abelia brings them to the local inn, wherein Esther has to insist that they share a room for the sake of saving gold—“No, I really don’t mind, so unless you’re uncomfortable with it then I’d like to limit our spending”—and they settle their belongings in their room.

As the sun is setting, after they have both eaten their meals, Abelia tells Esther to wait while she goes out to look for the hideout.

Esther’s first instinct is to object, and she gets as far as opening her mouth to voice her disagreement... But she pauses. Because, why would she object?

She believes the words Arne spoke to her about Abelia having martial ability, and even if she hadn’t, the woman has demonstrated a familiarity with the world that gives Esther the confidence that she will be fine on her own. At the very least, it’s obvious that she would be the better choice of the two to look for the bandit hideout.

And if they went together, Esther wouldn’t even know what to do without being directed. There’s no reason for her to go; she would be more of a burden than a help.

So Esther bids her a quiet farewell instead, polishing her blades one last time before turning in for the night.

* * *

Abelia wakes her a few hours before dawn. 

It’s an awful time to be in the waking world, Esther thinks, as she fixes a smile and alertness to her face. She hates mornings like a woman scorns a disloyal partner. Or like any person who hasn’t gotten enough sleep hates being woken up before the sun, which she is.

She’s grateful for the bread roll Abelia hands her. She misses something in the form of a caffeinated drink, though—even with her memory of both lives full of holes, it’s the small things like this that she remembers.

“I found the hideout,” Abelia says, as Esther is fastening her gear into place. “To the northeast, like the villagers suspected. The base is much larger than anticipated, however.”

“By the number of people inhabiting it specifically or the area of the land they’ve claimed?”

Even as she voices the question, she assumes that the number of bandits will be more than she hoped, which is the reason she asked. For obvious reasons, bandits don’t make a claim on sizeable land unless they’re of a number that could defeat the average militia.

“Both.” The response is punctuated with the sharp scrape of metal as Abelia sharpens her sword. “I didn’t get a headcount, but there were maybe a few dozen small structures along the mountainside. I’d wager there are at least fifty.”

_ That’s… Concerning. _

They depart shortly thereafter, and arrive in viewing distance of the hideout in under an hour. The sun has yet to rise.

Esther stops just at the outskirts of the defined area, trying to map out the settlement. She wonders at the ill-timing of her headache. “The plan…”

Abelia nods. “I didn’t get a headcount, but there are only two watchtowers. The rest of the lookout stand at ground level.”

Esther can see the watchtowers from where they stand. She forms a mental picture of the hideout based on what she can see and the information Abelia gave her.

“I’ll circle around by the east as you enter from the south. Those two points are furthest from the watchtowers.” She points to the two lookout towers, then moves to the darkened southern gate. “I can’t enter through the south gate, I don’t think I can scale it without attracting attention, but the east’s entrance is a weakness I can exploit. We’ll take them out one by one and meet in the center before spreading out again to the north and west.”

Abelia gives her a sidelong look. “... Forgive my skepticism, but you haven’t killed before. Or do you mean knocking them out?”

_ No, _ Esther thinks immediately, but doesn’t voice. Her smile remains in place even as her eyebrows furrow at her own confidence.

“It we don’t deal with the problem now, the bandits will just continue to terrorize the town,” Abelia points out. “Even if it seems immoral, or needless, the bandits will feel no such hesitance. Our own will only endanger the villagers you want to protect.”

Esther blinks, her expression falling neutral. _ I… know this. _

Abelia continues, “Moreover, the east is where they’re most fortified, which is why the watchtower is situated farthest from it. Yes, the barrier isn’t as high, but that’s where the guard is most concentrated, and it’s also the most well-lit. It would be too dangerous for you.”

Esther stares at Abelia for a few moments before turning her eyes to the hideout. She feels restless. There’s something in the back of her mind urging her, but she can’t put it to words.

She feels something brush against her arm, and turns to see Abelia wearing a small, seemingly apologetic smile. “It’s okay, you did well. In fact, I was… worried, you might suggest we try speaking to them.”

Esther wonders at that. She really hadn’t even considered trying to bargain or talk to them, she’d jumped to the immediate decision that there was no other option than this.

When she doesn’t reply, Abelia gives her another look before moving away. “I’ll take the west, since that was where I entered from last time. You’ll wait here. If things go wrong, I’ll signal a retreat.”

Esther only nods, remaining silent even as Abelia departs and she watches her melt into the darkness. She can’t seem to shake of her feeling of discomfort. The unease settling in her chest is stifling.

… She wonders, if she is unhappy because her plan was faulty.

_ Am I so full of myself? _

She knows that she has no reason to have confidence in her ability. She wonders when she started to believe the paltry effort she’s put in was even close to enough.

_ Is this something residual from this life? Before I regained my memories? _ Even as she’s thinking it, she knows it’s wrong—she can’t even remember everything from “Esther,” and based on what she’s gathered, she was not unduly confident. Rather, she was modest and withdrawn, if anything. And the results speak for themselves just what kind of combat ability she had.

She considers that it could be something from her _ other _ life, but no, even with her memories being in the same incomplete state as the memories from “Esther,” she knows she had no reason for such unsubstantiated confidence then, either. In some ways her memory of that life is more incomplete than this, but still, there’s something…

She pinches the skin of her hand hard enough to draw blood. _ Arrogance. _

It doesn’t matter where it comes from. The point remains that she has more belief in her abilities than deserved, and that’s something… unfathomably stupid.

She doesn’t dwell on the part of her that’s still disturbed for a different reason.

Esther silently climbs up a tree with some effort and scans what’s seeable from her new vantage point of the settlement. She keeps an eye out for Abelia’s spark signal, observes a couple guards yawn and exchange brief conversation, carefully watching for changes in activity.

She’s in the middle of wishing she had the conveniences of a watch, when the south gate opens. Two bandits walk out unsteadily, armored in hard leather and metal guards. She has a moment to wonder if they somehow detected her or Abelia’s presence before they both sit down just outside the gate, the man on the left pulling out a bottle.

Esther watches them for several minutes. Their conversation is hushed, probably trying not to get caught by their comrades, but they’re enjoying themselves well enough. Her gaze goes between the still-open gate and their swaying, inebriated forms.

They’re far enough from the open gate that, so long as they don’t make sudden bursts of noise, no one within the barricade will be alerted. She also hasn’t had much opportunity to test her experimental applications of magic on anything larger than small animals.

She comes to a decision, her magic coalescing and reaching out with purpose.

The air shifts and bends to her will, shaping to the invisible dome her magic creates around the bandit’s head. She knows it’s working when he starts sagging against the wall, his complexion turning and his eyelids fluttering.

The other notices. She’s able to feel the shift to unconsciousness in her victim, but she isn’t able to refocus her spell around the other before he stands, hauling his comrade onto his back and shuffling towards the gate, unsteady.

She doesn’t feel drained, but her efficiency and speed need work.

Esther climbs silently down the tree and moves behind the bandits, keeping her steps as quiet as possible. He forgets to close the gate, thankfully—she waits just on the other side with the wall concealing her, listening briefly for conversation or movement before she deems it safe to peer around and slip inside. She enters, out of sight from the outer torches.

She freezes when her foot lands on a dried leaf. Her eyes are trained on the backs of the two bandits she’s following, waiting for them to turn around at the sound… but they don’t. She still stays in place until she sees them enter one of the small buildings, a flickering light from the inside coming alive.

Her eyes scan the area even as she inches closer to the building. There’s no one else outside in this area, not that she can see. There are a few torches lit on the outside of some structures but the one the two bandits just entered is the only one with the lights on inside. It really is just the two.

She sidles up to the side of the house before pausing. The door is closed. Based on the size of it, it’s likely one-room structure, so she can’t risk opening the door without alerting them, whether by sound or sight. The window is only slightly above eye-level but there’s a curtain obscuring her view.

She’s about to give up and go back to her self-designated post when she feels something brush the edge of her awareness. Two signals, one fainter than the other. Flickering in and out like the swaying of a torch flame, or a heartbeat, breath.

She turns her head slowly. It’s coming from the house.

_ Hm. _ She blinks. _ Okay. _

It might work.

She tries to focus on the larger of the two presences, closing her eyes for concentration. She imagines the same sphere as before surrounding her target, her magic slowly pushing the air out and away to form a vacuum.

A clatter. Her concentration slips and she crouches low, eyes darting across the open area to discern what the sound was. She isn’t able to find a source, but after several moments of silence with no one coming at her with a weapon, she redirects her focus back to the occupants in the building. She pulls at her magic, and tries again.

She hears a thud.

There’s no way to confirm it but by sight. She takes a risk, going back to the front and unlatching the door. No movement or sound from inside. She slowly pushes the door open, frowning at the creak the hinges give out.

Esther breathes a quiet sigh of relief at the two clearly unconscious bandits, one lying prone on a bed and the other collapsed on the floor beside it.

The dagger Abelia gifted her is in her hands as she stands over the two, staring.

(It’s quiet.)

She wipes the blood off of the blade with the edge of a bed sheet as she glances around the room. There isn’t much of particular worth, but she’s still packing up and hauling a decently sized pack to her hiding spot to leave for later. Carrying it all with her will only attract attention, after all, especially the more shiny valuables that go “clink.”

The whole process is repeated in consecutive buildings. She remains careful, but it’s almost a practiced routine by the time she clears out the sixth shack of both breathing bandits and stolen goods. Maybe it’s the silence, or the crisp air of a night about to turn to morning, but she almost feels calm.

Esther has just sunk her dagger into the throat of her tenth unconscious victim when she hears a shout.

She instantly tenses, the hazy calm dispersing in an instant, and she’s certain she’s been found out—but then a telltale spark of flame flashes in the sky.

Abelia’s signal.

Esther feels dread drop like a leaden weight in her stomach. She doesn’t even realize she’s burst out into the open until she just barely dodges out of the way of an axe aimed for her neck, ducking low and spinning to knock it away. Her small dagger locks with the hilt of a sword, her eyes meet with the deep grey of her foe’s—fear flickers in wide eyes, her own reflection, or theirs—

—a hand grasps her arm and snaps away like burnt—

—she rolls to the side and keeps running, she hears screaming and can feel the heat of fire, the searing light blurring her vision, but she keeps running.

_ (Run escape need to get away save her them escape—) _

The wind is knocked out of her and she just barely reels her magic back when she recognizes who it is. Abelia shoves her down just as an arrow whizzes by where her head just was. “What the _ hell _ are you doing!?”

Esther finds herself relaxing minutely. The scene clears before her, fires seemingly having sprouted from nowhere but doing a decent job keeping the enemies at bay. Her magic pulls at the abundant flames to engulf the two charging at them, screams cut short by the live flame surging through lungs.

Abelia is behind her, locked swords with a bandit while another tries to rush her from the side. Esther’s gaze flicks to the distance where she knows an archer eyes them, an arrow trained on her.

There’s a moment.

Esther blinks back the spots in her vision. Her blade, her sword, drawn at some point, is soaked in blood. Fire dances around her, scattered on the ground as though the result of multiple fire bombs. What was once the hideout is now collapsed buildings, burning wood, strewn hay, and scorched earth.

Sunlight crests the horizon, but the visibility is due entirely to the still-burning, smokeless flames.

Esther closes her eyes. She can feel the give of flesh and bone to iron, the way it cuts the hands differently from the stomach, the arm different from the leg or the neck. The feeling of her magic bursting out, through, engulfing and suffocating until nothing is left. The heat of flame licks at her face and grasps at her soul past the chill. Light flashes behind her eyelids.

She takes a breath, only to grimace at the salty sour taste in her mouth. She turns to spit out a wad of blood that she suspects isn’t entirely hers.

Her eyes open again as Abelia is suddenly before her checking her over, hands on her arms, her shoulders and cheeks, wiping away blood. Her eyes are wide, almost frantic, which is an odd look on her. Esther fixes one of her usual smiles on her face but it only seems to alarm the woman more, so she lets it drop along with her gaze.

“Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

She can’t see the original color of her clothes underneath the blood. She can still feel the way bits of viscera cling to her, unidentifiable bits of what was once a living being under her fingernails and caught in the cracks of metal and folds of leather, the warm blood seeping through her clothes.

“... Shit. Shit, she’s going into shock—“

Instead of checking on her, Esther would rather she be making sure everyone is actually dead. Esther sighs, grabbing her hand, belatedly regretting the action—Abelia is much less blood-soaked than she is. “I’m not going into shock.”

It takes some convincing, but eventually Abelia is swayed. Esther stands at a single point in the disastrous scene as Abelia checks the area for any survivors; Esther has the stray thought that she should partition the fires and snuff them out so the settlement doesn’t become the kindling to a large-scale forest fire.

They decide that Abelia should be the one to carry the loot so that Esther doesn’t dirty it. The trek back to the village is quiet, and Esther seriously considers if what she’s experiencing is shock.

But no, not quite. She doesn’t have a specific memory to place to it, but she knows she’s felt what it’s like for her before—a yawning void, a sensation of numbness and being swallowed. But her mind is still clear. She knows what happened, she knows she just took many lives. Perhaps in more violent and traumatizing ways than intentioned, but her mind is still clear. She just didn’t allow herself the consideration of it all during the event.

_ Maybe it’s because this is all new. _ Despite having been able to adjust to this life to a degree, it’s through devoting herself to things that are familiar to her like training and studying that she’s grounded herself. With her memory as fragmented as it is, those are the only things she has.

_ I probably don’t see this as reality, still. _

A part of her is probably rejecting this. It all _ feels _ real, the quickly congealing viscous warmth on her is hard to ignore, along with her disgust, but there’s something keeping her from _ reacting _ as she thinks she probably should. And the only reason she can think of is that a part of her is still not convinced about the reality of her situation. Like she’ll wake up one day and realize that none of it actually happened.

The thought has her releasing a weary sigh under her breath. She’s tired. It’s a bone-deep exhaustion, not only physical, that hits her hard enough that she stumbles in her steps. Abelia expresses more unusually potent concern and Esther assures her she’s fine with a smile.

On one hand, it’s not good to take things lightly here, because being careless is a very quick and easy road to death. On the other, she’s not sure how she’d react to the full realization she just slaughtered a group of people if this is her mind’s method of compartmentalization she assumes it is.

Her gaze grows distant. _ Denial isn’t great, but there’s a reason why it’s a common coping mechanism. _

(The thought feels ridiculous as soon as she thinks it. Esther was the one that decided to do this, after all—she can’t say anything went differently from what she had planned from the outset.)

Abelia leads them to a river so they can both wash off most of the blood, more for the benefit of not scaring off the villagers than actually achieving some semblance of cleanliness. They move in silence the whole time, Esther not-really thinking about the night’s events and piecing them together.

Eventually, as she’s refastening her harness, Abelia reaches over to hold something out to her.

“Keep an eye on this next time,” Abelia says, and Esther realizes it’s her dagger.

She opens her mouth to apologize, because, she really just dropped and forgot about it, which is unbelievably careless. But Abelia speaks first.

“You… did well, tonight,” she says, seeming to struggle with the words. She peers at Esther with furrowed brows before shaking her head. “... I suppose it was inevitable.”

“What?”

“With you wanting to go to the Officers Academy, it’s an inevitable consequence that you’d kill eventually. I just didn’t think it would happen this soon.” She frowns. “I think it would have been preferable had you not had to kill at all, but such is the inevitable fate of many in this world.”

Esther is uncomfortable. More than with her careful not-consideration of her exact actions that night, more than the still present feeling of crusty blood on her skin and under her nails, more than the void-like absence of memory and information that she feels like should be there. Something about this conversation sets her on edge with a sharp twist in her stomach as a physical blade.

Her eyes seem to pulse in tandem with her erratic heartbeat, a cold yet fevered sweat leaving her clammy.

The headache is back.

She smiles, twirling her dagger and resheathing it at her belt in an exaggerated flourish that has Abelia give her a disbelieving look.

“We should head back quickly,” she says, smile pulling across teeth into more of a grin. “This has all been _ very _ exciting but I can’t wait to take a bath and sleep in my own bed, perhaps for a thousand years.”

Abelia eyes her, sharp gaze almost boring a hole in her face with the intensity of her stare. It feels like being dissected without the pinch of the knife.

Eventually she sighs, shaking her head.

“Whatever you say, my lady.”


	3. Chapter 3

_ . . . _

_ One ends, and another begins. _

_ “I miss them.” _

_ . . . _

_ (“Do you remember?”) _

* * *

They stay the night after returning the stolen belongings to the villagers and leave in the morning.

The trip had initially been planned for two other villages, but after what happened, Abelia had deemed it better to return first. Esther hadn’t objected. The return to the manse is quicker than the trek there, their trip taking a little under six days to complete.

The return leaves Esther feeling drained of all energy and sore in places she didn’t even realize had muscles. She once again resolves to work on her stamina. 

“I’m glad you have both come back unharmed,” Arne says, keen eyes giving them a once-over. “It looks as though you haven’t lost your touch in the art of silent kills, after all.”

_ What does that mean, _ Esther thinks, interest piqued. She turns to Abelia and gives voice to her thought, “What does that mean?”

Abelia’s expression tightens. She doesn’t turn to Esther as she replies, instead staring metaphorical daggers at Arne with her gaze. “... I was an assassin before, not that anyone besides Arne and myself knew about this. And you as well now, my lady, though I don’t see why he felt the need to reveal it.”

She finally turns to look at Esther, something familiar reflecting in her eyes. Something like… wariness? Esther smiles. “I don’t mind,” she says. “In fact, I think there’s a lot to be learned from that kind of skill set. I would very much like to learn under you, if you don’t mi—“

“I very much mind,” Abelia interrupts, and Esther wilts a little at the immediate rejection. “Self-defense is one thing, and certainly knowing the play of the battlefield is necessary for any individual who attends the Officers Academy, but my area of expertise isn’t something a young lady should learn.”

She pauses. “It’s also something too easy for certain people to slip into and lose themselves in the process.”

The weight to her gaze makes Esther distinctly uncomfortable, but she doesn’t avert her eyes.

Abelia lets out a tired breath. “Instead… Arne, Esther has proven to have, indeed, improved by much. I believe she’s done as much as she can on her own.”

“I’m not as young as I once was.”

“That applies to anyone,” Abelia says, dismissive. “And I know you aren’t utilizing your full ability when training her. It’s been a time, certainly, but I doubt you’ve grown that pathetic.”

Esther almost finds it in herself to feel offended, but there’s a point to be made there. Her magic? Untapped potential. Physical ability? … Hm.

She still doesn’t know what Abelia is getting at, though. “Was Arne a skilled fighter before, like you were an assassin?”

Arne clears his throat. “I was… once, of a knightly order.”

“_The _ knightly order.” Abelia turns to Esther. “He was part of the Knights of Seiros.”

“It was not for a notable period of time, there’s no need to emphasize my stay there.” Something about his tone is strangled. “And Abelia, I must ask, where are your formalities? This is no way to speak to lady Esther.”

Esther cuts in quickly, “I don’t mind at all. I prefer that you two speak casually, even. It’s more comfortable, and both of you are teaching me, so it’s not necessary.” She smiles a little wider for good measure. Not mentioned is that she herself doesn’t quite remember the etiquette of conversation and is distinctly uncomfortable with it.

“Lady Esther seemed uncomfortable with how I acted before, so I decided it was unnecessary.” Abelia shakes her head. “But anyway, Arne can increase the expectations on you for your swordplay. Swords are his weapon of choice, as well, so perhaps he can incorporate that into your spars.”

Esther turns to Arne. “But you always use spears.”

“Ah…” Arne clears his throat. “Spears were… not my forte. But now that you’ve proven yourself to Abelia, I believe it would be appropriate for you to move on to more complex sword forms and see what it’s like sparring against a more experienced swordsman.”

In other words, she was so bad that he had to use a weapon he hardly knew in order to be a sparring partner that wasn’t literal leagues beyond her level. Even still, he’s good enough that she honestly couldn’t tell it was not his weapon of choice.

Her smile doesn’t change. Inwardly, she feels more than a little put out.

“... I think it may be worth it for me to train you in daggers,” Abelia says. When Esther turns to her, “And no, I don’t mean the rest, though being able to control your footfalls and working on balance may help… Specifically, I mean, you may have some natural ability in wielding daggers.”

Esther feels her smile slip a little in surprise before she corrects it. Arne glances between the two of them. “What do you mean?”

“Lady Esther mostly used her magic to dispatch our enemies on this trip. But there was one point where there was an archer with her in his sights, and I had been reaching for my own bow… But then, there was a dagger between his eyes, and it wasn’t mine. He was at least twenty paces away.” Her tone is almost considering. “There was nothing major I could say about her form. The way she held the dagger, the follow-through, and how she made it all one fluid motion between summoning magic and letting loose the blade… I can’t imagine what that could be other than a natural affinity.”

Esther doesn’t remember that. _ Maybe I _ was _ in shock. _

“I see. Then, I will be instructing her in swordplay, you will manage daggers…” Arne cradles his chin, a thoughtful frown on his face. “It’s a pity we don’t have someone more adept at magic to train her.”

“Abelia helps me a great deal,” Esther feels the need to point out.

“Thank you, but I’m no expert on the subject by any means.” It’s Abelia’s turn to frown. “My lady, your abilities are truly… astounding… and professional instruction, something I cannot provide, would likely help.”

Esther subconsciously replaces “astounding” with “disastrous.”

She doesn’t reply, smiling quietly. Truthfully, she agrees that a specialist would be best—while Abelia is indeed a great help, there are a few applications of her magic she wants to test with others, but they’ve been too uncontrollable and volatile for that. She doesn’t dare attempt them anywhere else than in an open area with no potential victims in the vicinity. Someone well-versed in magic would probably have the appropriate protections, or at least the knowledge on how to mitigate the damage done, and would therefore be an optimal instructor.

“I’ll try to ask Lord Nuvelle,” Arne says after a moment.

It’s a nice thought, but Esther knows that won’t happen. Private lessons from a specialist means extra costs, and extra costs aren’t something the lord and madam of the Nuvelle house are willing to spare—if they were, Arne and Abelia wouldn’t speak about the unfortunate circumstances, they would have simply moved on to securing an instructor for her without a word.

… Or maybe they would notify her before? It seems less rude that way, as opposed to her walking into the sitting room one day with her hypothetical instructor there, and either Arne or Abelia saying “oh, by the way, this is your new instructor we’ve procured for your instruction.”

Not having an idea of what “etiquette” here is like really leaves her devoid of understanding of the situations around her. Esther cradles her chin in thought. _ I guess I should try to relearn some of it, since I’m apparently not going to magically remember what I forgot. _

But the point is that, these days, Arne and Abelia are not as strict about observing the ways of etiquette around her. While, on one hand, that only adds to her etiquette deficit, on the other, she’s much happier being able to interact more-or-less normally with them.

Just a month earlier, they wouldn’t have even spoken this candidly around her. Esther quietly pats herself on the back for getting them to relax around her to this extent.

“My lady?”

Esther blinks, but otherwise doesn’t betray any indication that she briefly checked out of the conversation. She smiles more honestly as she recalls Arne’s words.

“I’d appreciate that. Please let me know what he says.”

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Francis doesn’t bend to the idea of her receiving private instruction.

Well, it isn’t so unreasonable as him stonewalling Arne’s request on her behalf—he _ had _ apparently said he would like to assess Esther’s ability first in order to decide whether or not the investment was worth it, and to see what level of instruction she should receive. It was a perfectly economical response.

Esther relays her response to Arne: “No.” A pause. “... Tell him my ability is lacking, and the reason I requested an instructor was because I was struggling. I’d rather not waste his time.”

Her previous assertion that she didn’t want her parents to know about her apparent talent still stands, and showcasing her ability to them would be achieving the exact opposite.

She will have to wait until making it to Garreg Mach before proceeding with her magical training. While not exactly ideal, that is what she had planned from the beginning, and considering what she _ has _ been able to do, it’s not … quite … a concern.

Control is necessary, but if worse comes to worst, she knows she can quite literally detonate a person. Or something close enough to it. So.

Speaking of, following that clearly traumatic experience, Abelia gives her no more than two days before she confronts her. Or maybe it should be said that she finally confronts her, after two days of ominous looming and pinpoint stares that Esther can physically feel.

“My lady, we should talk about what happened.”

Esther looks down at her half-finished and rather tasty meal, then turns to look mournfully at Abelia. “Now?”

Abelia nods gravely.

“... I’d rather not, right now,” she says honestly, rubbing her temples.

“Is it your migraine’s again, my lady?”

Abelia sounds concerned. And yes, Esther has headaches, but these days she almost never _ doesn’t _ and her reluctance to discuss this has a different source entirely.

“... Okay.” Esther pushes her plate aside, turning to face the woman fully. “If you believe we should discuss this, then we shall. I’ll summarize what happened. I killed people. Rather violently, with magic, but also apparently with my sword, and one instance of the dagger you granted me. Is that everything?”

Abelia stares at her in silence for a few moments. “... For anyone, the taking of a life isn’t something that can just be ignored. My lady, I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“I am.” At Abelia’s look, Esther continues, “In truth, I’ve been preparing myself for this since I first decided I’d go to Garreg Mach. I will be fine. Yes, it’s a little jarring, but after time I’ll be fine.” She smiles for good measure. “I don’t need to talk about it because I’ve been prepared for this.”

It’s not even a lie. She has a lot of questions, of course, and a lot of thinking to do if she acknowledges the suspicious _ something _ she’s carefully not thinking too hard about, but that’s something for later contemplation when she’s alone and has no other option. The surface takeaway is that she will be fine. She just can’t examine it too closely at the moment.

“I don’t want to talk about it, please,” she adds.

Abelia doesn’t reply, steel gaze on her. Esther knows the look—she’s not mentally breaking her down into the essentials, just deep in thought with her as the subject, but it still feels like being placed under a microscope. Esther glances down and pokes at a potato with her fork.

“... Why did you want to go to Garreg Mach?”

Esther looks back up.

“I thought it was because of the church, or maybe a curiosity for the combat arts, and whatever academic resources could be provided there. But your focus doesn’t seem to be a mere curiosity and I don’t recall you ever expressing religious interest.” Abelia pauses. “And based on your words, I do not believe it to be solely academic, either.”

Esther doesn’t reply, still smiling.

“You shouldn’t push yourself too much, my lady. I don’t know your motivations, but… as the phrase goes, the more you burn the quicker you will go out.”

“Do I really seem so desperate?”

Abelia blinks, before relaxing. “Desperate… No, I wouldn’t call it that. But there is no reason to push yourself to your limits. We are at peace, after all.”

A thought flits through Esther’s mind, but her smile doesn’t turn wry. “What do you mean by peace?”

“What ... do I mean by peace? Even if the Almyrans to the east are an issue, the Nuvelle territory is far removed from it.“ True to her stoicism, Abelia doesn’t falter in her explanation despite the odd inquiry. “And the Dagda and Brigid forces were successfully culled in the last war, as you know. There’s no reason for the peace to be broken.”

Esther smiles wider, the corners of her eyes pinching. “It’s not outside forces I’m worried about.”

“What do you mean?”

Abelia’s tone is sharp. Her eyes immediately dart across the room—and Esther has a moment to worry about eavesdroppers before relaxing.

There’s no reason for any truly concerning parties to be wary of her, at the moment, and her inexplicable ability of detection reveals her and Abelia are the only ones present.

She still sits back in her chair, contemplating her words carefully. Abelia isn’t some highly lauded, powerful knight, but she’s intelligent, and skilled in her areas. Perhaps more importantly she’s someone Esther has pinned as a trustworthy ally to have.

If Esther isn’t considering the secrets about herself even she isn’t privy to… she needs allies. She was thinking specifically of people she knew from that once-fictional story, of course, but Abelia is a perfectly capable individual and also _ right there_.

“Abelia,” she says, and she watches the woman straighten. “I don’t say this as the lady of this house. I consider you as something like a friend.”

Abelia frowns. “My lady—“

“More importantly, I consider you a possible ally, which is why I will be frank: I don’t care about this house. I don’t seek its destruction, but I currently don’t care to ensure its survival, which may very well be an issue in the future.”

Abelia’s expression falls into one of neutrality, carefully crafted and unreadable. Esther taps a finger on the table. “You and Arne are both people I have respect and care for, which is why I would like you to stay with me. I am not able to offer much right now and may very well be unable to in the future, but at the very least—as someone who wishes to be your comrade and friend—I will not let anything happen to you, so long as it is within my power.”

“... And the rest of the staff?”

“They are part of my consideration, of course. I’m grateful to them for my years here.” Esther gestures to the doorway. “It isn’t much, but I’ve partitioned my savings for each of the servants to live off of. It’s not freedom from the Nuvelle contract—I do not have the funds to buy off all the servants from my parents on top of providing them a means to survive—but if things go as I predict, it won’t be an issue.”

Abelia’s shoulders drop a fraction. “Because the Nuvelle house will no longer exist, leaving the contract null.”

Esther nods. All the servants of the Nuvelle household work under the lord by a lifetime contract, terminated by either the lord’s discretion for punishment or through hefty fee to pursue a different kind of life. In other words, a fee to buy their freedom. By even the empire’s standards it is an antiquated master-servant contract, carried over from three generations ago and only having been kept by the Nuvelle house due to past influence. The reason why the Nuvelle house was able to keep the contract after its fall is likely due to oversight alone.

That contract is of the main reasons why they still have any servants to speak of. Abelia and Arne probably would have stayed out of loyalty to the previous head, but Esther doubts many of the others had such reasons to stay.

It’s that loyalty that has her pause at Abelia’s quick acceptance, however. “... You aren’t bothered by the idea of Nuvelle’s fall?”

“The lord and madam I was loyal to are already dead.” It’s a firm statement, even by Abelia’s standards. “But I would like to know just what it is that has you convinced that there will be a conflict in the future. The Nuvelle house is weak, certainly, but even the imperial rule couldn’t destroy it in its entirety—not without issues that would make the endeavor more harmful than good.”

Esther hums.

Abelia looks to her, waiting for a reply. As the silence stretches on, her brows pinch—then she seems to come to a realization as she straightens. “... I am not comfortable with a friendship. However, I would be honored… to be your ally, in the future.”

Though skilled and clearly capable in all areas she covers, Esther has come to know Abelia as an honest and trustworthy person. Though perfectly capable of the deceit and subterfuge her past implies, she is a loyal individual with her own sense of honor.

Esther smiles a little more honestly. She lifts a hand.

“The Tragedy of Duscur. The Insurrection of the Seven. And the various other conflicts that preceded them, like the Hrym Revolt.” Esther numbers them in succession. “There may not be war, but there is unrest, and this coming year the future leaders of Fodlan’s three nations will be attending Garreg Mach.”

“... Forgive me for saying,” Abelia says, “while you are correct that these point to unrest, I don’t see how that could develop into the future you’ve implied.”

Esther considers this. Her reasons are, obviously, because of knowledge she shouldn’t have. And normally she wouldn’t so readily consider the idea, but...

There’s no reason why she can’t tell Abelia. Not only are Abelia and Arne people she trusts, she also has confidence in their discretion regardless of the topic. Speaking in a personal sense, too, she could even say she would feel relieved to have others to share her future knowledge and worries with.

Decision made, she opens her mouth to begin her explanation—

—and abruptly chokes on her words as her lungs seize.

“My lady!?"

Esther doubles over, eyes blurry and gaze fixed on the ground between her two hands. She feels cold and hot at the same time, a blurry static enclosing the edge of her vision as palpable emotion threatens to asphyxiate her.

Flashes of images—

—pain _ where is he _ fear exhaustion _ arms burning bleeding i’m— _

—and sensation surge through her head, impossible to discern and blurred through—

—_ i don’t want to die _ no _ i can’t lose themhimher _ can’t breathe _ i can’t they can’t i’d rather d— _

—she can’t _ breathe _—

—_ not again i don’t want not again they can’t not again not again notagain— _

—op.

_ —please i— _

_ Stop. _

She blinks, slowly coming two and certain she’s lost time. Her vision clears, the ceiling coming into view—she sees Abelia seated next to her, and as she sits up she moves to help her. Abelia’s expression is smooth save for the crease between her eyebrows belying the calm she affects.

Light still trickles into the room from the afternoon sun. But the ticking clock against the wall verifies that much more than the few minutes she thought she lost have passed.

_ … What was that. _

She takes a breath. There are certain things that do not require immediate dissection despite how serious they seem, as far as Esther is concerned. Sometimes it is better to simply put it to the side for later, especially when there are more pressing concerns. The immediacy of this, however, is both alarming and with the clear meaning that _ something _ is very, _ very wrong. _

A panic attack, she distantly notes it as. _ But why? _

Images flash through her mind all the time as a result of her memory situation and the hazy thought she struggles to recall was even less distinct than usual. Yet, the lingering dread and fear that sits low in her diaphragm, threatening to surface yet again and stop her attempt should she try it, tells her that this course of action isn’t wise.

She knows it’s not some otherworldly presence or restriction that keeps her silent. It’s _ her_, having some knowledge—however unconscious—that telling Abelia about the future would be a terrible choice.

Emotion. It had been overwhelming emotion that had silenced her, specifically… Fear. Dread, terror, panic… And grief.

As though they had already died.

_ But why? _

There’s no reason for this. This isn’t something that speaks of reason at all, but emotion. Her certainty is completely unexplained. It could be something to do with her memories, but even then it wouldn’t explain the certainty she has—memories of the _ past _ don’t confirm the _ future_.

_ Is it a bias? _ She wonders, a little rueful. She considers the idea of a belief that, because they weren’t “characters” in the story, they would die if she tells them. But no—if she’s going to trust this inexplicable “feeling,” then it tells her that this, too, is wrong. It’s not because of relevance to the story, but something else.

_ Something… related to Abelia herself. And Arne, _ she thinks, and again, she feels an impossible certainty, only this time that she’s right. The knowledge has her backtrack—maybe it really is related to her memories. Something about the two of them that she knew before, but forgot when she remembered she had lived a previous life, and whatever that knowledge is tells her that knowledge of the future will endanger them.

That isn’t so surprising, the more she thinks about it. Her intent was and is to form a friendship with the two of them, not to tie them to her as servants, and so it would make sense they might act in ways she doesn’t expect or want them to. Perhaps, this is what her memories predict—that should she tell them what she knows, they might try to investigate on their own, leading to an untimely death.

… It still doesn’t explain the dire certainty of their deaths. She would be able to speak with them and convince them to be careful. And even if they didn’t do as she asked, they are both very skilled—at the very least, skilled enough to realize when they’ve encountered a foe too strong to defeat.

She only just managed to pull Abelia over to her side definitively, and she plans on working on Arne as well. In a more personal sense, she’s come to care for them—she’s not willing to lose them, no matter how unreasonable and unlikely to happen her sudden fear is.

It’s an impossible inquiry. Even when trying to confront her inner … something … she doesn’t conveniently recall anything or get concrete answers, only distinct but unreasonable feeling. She mentally shelves it for later.

_ More is added to the mystery of myself, I suppose. _

Esther turns to Abelia, trying for a smile. “I hope this did not damage any trust you had in me as an ally.”

Abelia’s response, however subdued, is quick and honest, concern showing in her tone and actions. The knowledge relieves Esther.

She chooses her words carefully.

“... The continent is unstable. Something is going to happen eventually.”

The look Abelia gives her is contemplative, but she doesn’t push for more information.

Esther retires to her room early.

* * *

A month after the first bandit purge, Esther and Abelia leave once again to clear out the rest of the bandits in the territory. In-between, Esther continues her training, telling both Arne and Abelia of her new strides in magic, and she also managed to conditionally pull Arne to her side.

“You’ve certainly thought this through,” he said, going over her monetary statements for the staff. “Very well. I will help you prepare for the future.”

Esther nearly sighed in relief, but it was short-lived. “However, while I do not doubt my lady’s words, I have served this house for many years. As such, I am unwilling to turn my back on it without concrete proof.”

“I will support you as much as I can, and I understand that there are some things you do not wish to divulge. But I will remain here until I see proof of the changes you believe will happen.”

Esther was a little disappointed but not surprised. So long as he survived, she didn’t necessarily want to tie him to her—she also knew that the “proof” he wanted would reveal itself soon, and obviously, so she didn’t worry about it.

She lets herself focus on the bandit issue and her training. The month in-between gives plenty of time to sort through previously ignored reports and put an ear out to the rumor mill for unreported incidents, and the total is narrowed down to three separate groups.

The first is at an abandoned border town that takes only a handful of hours to reach by foot. Esther manages to defeat four bandits in close-combat before needing to resort to magic, feeling too physically drained to maintain proper form. Her magic is as potent as ever, and she uses it to do most of the work, Abelia quickly and efficiently dispatching enemies alongside her.

The second hideout they go to, before Esther starts with an explosion of fire magic to scatter them, Abelia stops her.

The look she gives her is nothing short of ominous. “I’ll teach you what I know.”

Esther, though not having expected it, is pleasantly surprised by Abelia’s change of position. Abelia herself is clearly not the happiest, but she says that knowing the skills will make it easier to Esther to anticipate and counter them.

“I know you have your sensing ability, but if you have these skills, others won’t look too closely at your other proficiencies,” Abelia explains. She gives her a side glance, “... And since you’re going to Garreg Mach, you’ll be around important figures. Having these skills could help.”

Esther gladly accepts, though she has a feeling she and Abelia are on different pages regarding her last point. She doesn’t dwell on it—it’s true that having these skills will help to protect her.

They finish dealing with the bandit issues in two months. They return to the manse to a frazzled Arne, who has apparently been doing an admirable job fielding her parents and their inquiries on her progress.

Abelia tries to, again, talk to her about her admittedly odd acceptance with killing. Since gaining more control of her magic and strengthening her physical abilities, her kills have become less gruesome, but it’s still something Abelia tries to revisit.

Esther, again, tells her she’s fine. In solitude she tries to examine her state, because Abelia’s point about repression of ignored trauma is a point she can’t ignore, but the conclusion she comes to only gives her more questions than answers.

If she has to describe it, she’s resigned. After having killed so many, she assumes that she’s simply come to accept it, considering the high need for force in the future. It doesn’t feel quite right but she can’t think of what else could be the source, so she leaves it at that. It’s concerning just how tired she feels from it all—as though she’s been through a thousand battles and lost a part of her soul, if she were to wax needlessly poetic—but she figures that’s the weight of taking a life. She doesn’t want to devalue it.

Regardless of her own issues, memory or morality or otherwise, time continues to pass. She trains, she studies, she learns as much as she can about the world—and she plans.

Her goal is indistinct. Beyond a distant idea of survival and curiosity mixed with dread, she doesn’t have much to direct her. This would, even should, worry her, but something still pushes her forward despite the weight of all that is to happen.

Perhaps her biggest ambition is for a peaceful ending. Peaceful for herself, for those she will be surrounded by as a result of that goal, and whomever else—again, a vague affirmation based on feeling rather than knowledge, memory or reason, but still something that pushes her forward all the same.

She doesn’t tell herself that it will be okay.

The odd “feeling” she gets doesn’t tell her it will be okay, either. She doesn’t have such a belief, and knows that despite not being entirely warranted to the extent she exercises it, her wariness is justified. She has an idea of how things are to proceed, but nothing is certain, and the smallest mistake could spell the end of everything.

Even still: it’s precisely because of the uncertainty that she knows she has a chance.

(In a way, it could be said her belief is in chance itself.)

Esther smiles, the expression mild, as she stares at an affixed point in the cloudless sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (consecutively posts first 3 chapters so the fic doesn't get as much attention -> i'm not as much the human personification of Anxiety)
> 
> i can’t wait for frost to post their story bc i can say i was the first person to write and post fanfic for it. for now it’s kinda sad bc no one except me and 3 other ppl will get the references at all, but……… maybe someday…….
> 
> anyway enough exposition and me writing in 10 references no one will get. garreg mach next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

_ “I have a dream.” _

_ “I see echoes of the three of us in another trio, beset by a ‘fate’.” _

_ “I don’t want to see what transpired before happen again. I want to stop it.” _

_ “It’s not the same. They are not the same. Everything is different.” _

_ “But this dream is all I have.” _

_ “And so, I ...” _

_ . . . _

_ . . _

_ . _

* * *

It’s nearly the 1180th year of Fodlan. Esther realizes, quite suddenly, that the events that she’s been preparing for are about to begin.

More specifically, it’s the 17th of Guardian Moon. What happens is that she doesn’t get a recommendation _ or _ a scholarship as per Francis’ stipulations for her attendance at Garreg Mach.

The thing is, she… kind of…

Forgot.

Between her experiments with magic application, her training in swords, her surface-level training on the more subtle arts from Abelia (not limited to _ just _ daggers), and her not-exactly-confronting-but-definitely-not-avoidance of her issues, the fact that she _ had _ something else to work on in preparation slipped her mind.

What she does is this: she leaves a letter detailing her intent to _ definitely _ bring home a high-ranking husband, asks Abelia and Arne to placate her parents, packs up the barest of necessities, and hauls it to Garreg Mach in a near-sleepless seven day trip.

(Her physical ability has improved quite a bit from the condition she was in before, she’s proud to note.)

Which is how she finds herself begging Seteth to allow her attendance at least in some capacity.

“Please. If I could sit in on at least some classes, receive some form of instruction, I’ll do _ anything__._ Mop the floors, clean the toilets, run errands, handle paperwork—even under a debt agreement, _ please _ let me attend the academy.” She punctuates her rush of words with her hands tightly clasped before her and wide eyes beseeching.

The man gives an Aggravated sigh, deserving of the capital letter, as he pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “This is ridiculous. How did you even get in? If you weren’t clearly a foolish child I would’ve mistaken you for an assassin and struck you down from where you stood…” He pauses, brow spasming. “Or clung, rather.”

He found her scaling the walls outside the cathedral tower. Abelia had taught her well. _ Too well, _ she could imagine the ex-assassin muttering with an ill-concealed frown.

The man also known as Cichol isn’t as harsh as first impressions make him seem. Despite his harsh words and glare, he _ doesn’t _ immediately kick her out with an axe punctuating her exit—he even troubles the archbishop and some of the other staff on the matter of what to do with her.

She stands before the small panel of Garreg Mach personnel, blinking at the semi-familiar faces. She’s pretty sure two of the four were either just woken up mere minutes ago or pulled away from research, hence, the glassy-eyed looks.

Manuela clears her throat.

“So. Why exactly are you so set on attending the academy?”

“My magic has had some destructive results,” Esther answers honestly. “I feel as though I would receive the best instruction here.”

“The Fhirdiad School of Sorcery would serve that purpose well enough,” Hanneman points out. His eyes aren’t actually on her, but the book he holds in one hand as he writes furiously with the other.

He has a point, but to keep an eye on the progression of events she needs to be at Garreg Mach. She prepared for this question.

“As per the non-aggression agreement, if the scion of a noble household were to flee from the Empire to the Holy Kingdom, the house would have full rights to drag said scion home,” she says with a placid smile. “Because of Garreg Mach’s established neutrality, that particular scenario would not come to pass.”

Manuela snorts, immediately covering her mouth with a delicate hand. Esther glances at her with a slightly more genuine smile—at least someone finds the situation humorous.

“I’ll take her,” the woman says, waving a hand at the skeptical look her cohort shoots her. “Look, I could use an assistant for the year, as I believe we all could, considering the roster. It’s basically free labor.”

Seteth frowns, more deeply than usual, because he’s been frowning the entire time Esther’s known him. “It’s true that we haven’t reached full capacity this year for the dorms, and if the professors believe they could use the help, then I don’t necessarily find issue.” He turns to the silent Rhea. “If the Archbishop agrees?”

Rhea is silent, her gaze distant. “I suggest you test her capabilities, but I have no objections, so long as she behaves accordingly for the duration of her time here.”

And that’s it. Rhea hardly gives her more than a cursory glance, a placid smile Esther doesn’t trust on her face before the woman excuses herself and leaves. Esther is comfortable with that—she could understand Rhea’s motivation to an extent, but the woman sets her on edge.

(She didn’t agree with her methods before. She definitely doesn’t now.)

Seteth excuses himself after Rhea, as does Hanneman. Manuela saunters up to her with a grin.

“So, introductions. Manuela Casagranda, professor, physician, and songstress all in one. I’ve never had a protege for anything outside of singing.” She winks. “This is bound to be interesting, hm, Esther?”

Esther smiles, but it turns into more of a wince. “I suppose that depends on how I test.”

“My, what happened to your confidence from earlier? No need to be modest now. You said your magic has given some ‘destructive results’, yes?”

“The destructive part is true, but the confidence was definitely bluster,” Esther informs her.

“Hah, a noble with a bit of wry humor, I’ve a feeling we’ll get along just fine… As for your abilities, I suppose we’ll see.” She spins Esther on her heel and begins herding her out of the room, destination unknown. “But I intend to make full use of you as a part-time teacher’s assistant, I should warn you.”

Esther smiles, honestly relieved. She’s successfully secured a place for herself, here.

“I’m grateful for you for taking me on at all. That’s fine.”

* * *

It’s not fine.

Well, it is, because in a way she’s still receiving physical training even if it isn’t the most overt. But within a week she feels as though she’s been stretched thin beyond all expectations.

The arrangement was decided as such: She will learn from Manuela, regardless of which house the professor ends up teaching, and will attend events and excursions as a pseudo member of said house. But she will also help Manuela with paperwork, grading, assignments, training—all amounting to her having the position of a teacher’s aide. Informally her work also includes running to the marketplace or the town for alcohol and food runs, but she doesn’t quite mind much when Manuela is always so thankful for it. The fact she doesn’t make her pay for it all with her own meagre stipend helps.

The problem lies with the others.

The incoming students haven’t even moved into the dorms yet for the spring, but there’s a lot of work that goes into preparing for the school year. Somehow she’s been roped into being Hanneman’s errand boy for his crest research even despite having nothing to do with crests, her tasks covering anything from retrieving crest-related texts from the library for him or being a sounding board for his latest theories. Seteth also has her run a paper here or a package there whenever he catches her—she doesn’t know how he seems to always have a ready-made task for her to run all over the monastery.

And for some reason there’s a small group of knights that like to pull her into training whenever she so much as passes the training hall. The fact that her room is only one door away from being the closest she could be to the training hall doesn’t help, because it means she’s in sight of anyone hanging around the entrance, which is how she’s been caught a few times. She doesn’t even know their names. They never introduced themselves, she just knows them as a group of four that are determined to beat her into the ground with swords, axes, or spears.

They’re kind, yes, the smiles and honest apologies when she gets hurt attest to that. It doesn’t mean she isn’t feeling bruises under her bruises, though.

The only positive is that she manages to shock them in a spar the first time her sword snaps in two. Not that she intended for that to happen, it’s much like the times her sword broke with no discernible reason against Arne, but it baffles her opponents long enough for her to defeat them, for once.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way again. The accidental sword-breaking continues, but so do the one-sided defeats on Esther’s part.

She runs into Alois before long, and though she probably should have expected a pattern, she still finds herself disbelieving when she’s saddled with yet more chores and another “sparring partner” to kick her around the training grounds.

On one hand, she thinks this is the most improvement she’s had to her physical ability in such a small amount of time. On the other, she’s quite sure she’ll be feeling these bruises for the next year, at least.

Despite all her complaining over chores, training, and general lack of free time, she finds herself feeling oddly… light. If she had to put it to words, it’s almost like familiarity, like being “home.” 

The notion doesn’t make much sense, but the Nuvelle manse never felt like “home” to her, just a place she lived. Abelia and Arne helped alleviate the heavy feeling, but between the memories she _ does _ have only recalling dreary halls with little interaction, the reminders of how she’s changed since regaining her memories, and the monotony of her life being limited to her training and studies, it was difficult to find herself content. But at Garreg Mach, she feels an odd sense of levity that is certainly not unlike returning home to a place of safety and comfort. She can only attribute it to the story from before.

(She finds it odd that she feels so much more about a story than anything related to the gaps in her memory, but in a somewhat sad way, she can understand it—though she can’t remember the specifics outside of the story itself, she knows it had meant a lot to her.)

It’s through her tasks that she also meets Cyril. It actually takes almost a week for them to finally run into each other, but considering how much work she’s been given and how he is also likely being run around the monastery, she doesn’t find it too surprising. He doesn’t bother with conversation beyond the initial introductions, only giving her a measuring look from time to time, but she’s fine with that. The two of them don’t have much in common.

She doesn’t know if she can bring herself to speak explicitly positive things about Rhea, to be honest. She decides her path will be decidedly neutral—perhaps a bit respectfully distant—if he does bring up the archbishop, though.

Manuela puts together a simple test of magic for her about two weeks into her stay. She has her cast basic spells—Esther provides carefully restrained examples of fire, thunder, wind—and balks when she finds out Esther can’t use Faith magic.

“That’s quite literally my jurisdiction, you know,” Manuela says, vexed. “I know the theory of Reason, of course, but it’s just not my area of study. I can’t believe you can’t use Faith at all…”

Though disheartened by it, Manuela doesn’t drop her right there as Esther fears. Instead, she tells her to cast her strongest, most destructive spell. Esther, of course, tries to vehemently refuse.

When that fails, she tries to convince Manuela to have them move to someplace with more space. Manuela says that the training grounds are perfectly safe. Argument lost, Esther resigns herself to her fate, and summons up her strongest fire spell. She closes her eyes and waits for the inevitable.

… Only, nothing happens. When she blinks open her eyes, there’s no hole blasted through the walls, no collapsed and scorched flooring, not a flame in sight. There’s the telltale lingering heat from her spell, the only thing that informs her that she _ did _ cast it, but none of the usual destruction.

Manuela’s face is a carefully constructed mask of neutrality, betraying nothing. She excuses her with a nod and leaves without a word.

Esther never does find out how she did on that test.

Following the reveal of her inability to use Faith, Manuela brings (read: forces, quite forcibly) Hanneman into her training. He’s clearly not happy with the arrangement, of course, but Esther doesn’t bother trying to relinquish him from the stubborn woman’s hold—she quietly considers it payback as an unwilling prisoner to his crest lectures.

Manuela brings them both back to the training grounds to have Esther display her strongest spell, again. And again, nothing actually happens, but when she turns to look at them, the corners of Manuela’s eyes are pinched and Hanneman looks at her like she’s done something of monumental, previously unfathomable stupidity.

Again, she has no idea what those expressions mean, because they don’t speak a word of it. Hanneman agrees to help train her without much fuss afterwards, though, so she doesn’t pay much mind to it.

(She does wonder if all the buildings in Garreg Mach have some sort of anti-disaster spell, or whatever it had been that protected it from the Agarthans. Maybe it was something similar that kept the damage nonexistent—but that still doesn’t explain the reactions of the two professors, nor does it explain how the monastery ends up nearly falling to ruin in the siege, if it had such a capability.)

(But again: not too important, and she doesn’t pay much mind to it.)

And so, between magic instruction from Manuela and Hanneman, sparring with the Knights of Seiros, running errands for all of the above plus Seteth, as well as various other chores that she actually did sign herself up for when she first offered the exchange, her beginning months at Garreg Mach prove to be rather hectic. She barely manages to steal moments for herself, spent either passed out in her room or at the dining hall eating good food to replenish her energy.

Through it all, she doesn’t see Rhea even once. Esther doesn’t have anything personal against the archbishop, but again, she’s thankful for the lack of interest in her.

At the start of Lone Moon, her routine begins to shift.

She doesn’t even realize the change immediately. On later reflection she will realize that it makes sense that students started moving in, since classes officially begin in the fourth month. But for now she doesn’t connect the increased activity to the students slowly filtering in until she literally runs into a student on her way to the knight’s hall.

Esther blinks a little as she rights herself, having been jarred only slightly. She tightens her grip on the boxes she’s carrying—a quick glance verifies that nothing’s fallen out, good—and she turns to the unfortunate victim of their collision that clearly wasn’t as lucky as her.

She doesn’t really have a hand to offer help, but she manages to shift balance the boxes to her left anyway. “Sorry about that, I should have been more careful. Are you all right?”

“Ow...” The girl rubs her lower back with her hand, but looks up at the query. She gives a half-wince, half smile, taking the offered hand.

Esther stares.

“Dorothea?”

She barely pauses, easily lifting the other girl off the ground, and the name was barely more than a whisper. Even still, the girl—Dorothea—turns to look at her with slightly wider eyes.

“Oh! I’m sorry, um… Do I know you? Do we know each other…?”

Esther feels her face warm a fraction as she quickly fixes a smile on, quietly berating her slip. “No, but I know _ of _ you.” Not a lie. “I’m from the empire, and I’ve always wanted to hear you sing.”

Also not a lie. She read about Dorothea’s singing prowess and had indeed wondered what her voice would sound like.

The apprehensive look fades from Dorothea’s expression, replaced by a smile warmed by elation. “Oh! I didn’t think I’d find a fan here, I didn’t really think I _ had _ many fans aside from… Well, I’m flattered.”

“Sorry again for running into you,” Esther says again. “Are you hurt? I can take you to the infirmary, if you’d like. I doubt you’ve gotten accustomed to the layout, yet.”

Dorothea waves her hands in front of her. “No, I couldn’t trouble you for that. You look like you have someplace to get to and I also wasn’t paying as much attention as I probably should have…” She trails off, tilting her head to the side. “... Actually, you have me at a disadvantage, you know.”

“Huh?”

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” Dorothea reaches up and picks a box from the top of the pile, shaking her head before Esther can object. “I have some time, and you’re right, I could use a guide. Consider this both an apology for running into you, and repayment for you running into me.” She winks. “So, where to? Miss…”

Esther’s smile relaxes. “Esther. And I’m heading to Professor Hanneman’s office—second floor from the reception hall.”

The walk there is pleasant. Esther dutifully plays the role of a tour guide, pointing out the dining and entrance halls as they enter the main building, Dorothea interjecting with some bits of her life in the Empire, thinking that she and Esther could share something in common. That’s when Esther has to sadly inform her that she lived a sheltered life—memory loss notwithstanding and not mentioned—and Dorothea asks why.

“You’re a noble?” Dorothea blinks. “... Huh. Well, color me surprised.”

“... I actually don’t know? If that’s still the case, I mean,” Esther confesses. At Dorothea’s raised eyebrow, she elaborates. “I, may have run away from home, to come here. I left a letter for my parents and informed the head maid and butler, but haven’t received any news from them. I made up a lie that I’d bring home a rich and high-standing husband in the hopes that’d be enough to deter them hunting me down, but I might have been disowned?”

The other girl stares at her.

“It’s been an interesting few months for me. When I first got here, I climbed the walls to get in,” Esther says, the corners of her eyes creasing in a smile. “But anyway, that’s my situation. It’s also why I’m not formally enrolled. I basically work as a live-in housekeeper, errand boy, captive audience, and teacher’s aide all in one.”

Dorothea laughs in her face.

“That’s a little rude,” Esther says, but her smile is still genuine as she watches the other girl hunch over her box and stifle a snicker.

“You… Oh Goddess, you actually—you know, Seteth mentioned—ahem, _‘climbing of the walls is strictly forbidden, I expect the students of Garreg Mach to behave with more decorum befitting the Church.’"_ Her voice cracks at the end into laughter, shattering the rather accurate impression of the Church official. “I can’t believe that was you. This is incredible. You’re not very noble-like—and I say that as a compliment, I swear.”

They drop off the boxes at Hanneman’s office before continuing the informal tour. Dorothea looks a little surprised when Esther all but throws her box into the room, giving the box Dorothea holds the same treatment before grabbing her hand and fast-walking down the hall. Esther explains that the “captive audience” job of her’s is completely due to Hanneman, and warns Dorothea that the man can and will drag an unwitting victim into a lecture on crests.

Dorothea laughs again, telling her he can’t be all that bad. Esther relents, saying that he probably is a bit more heavy-handed with her due to her position, but that it’s still wise to be careful. Dorothea eventually agrees, amused.

They head to the training grounds when the conversation switches from Dorothea’s performances to certain unruly fans and the necessity of self-defense, and Esther says that she would probably find plenty of use from the facilities there.

Unsurprisingly, Dorothea is a charismatic individual. She’s fun to be around, easily carrying conversation without awkwardness, and Esther finds herself smiling with genuinity on their walk.

Esther greets the knight at the entrance to the training hall and they walk in, Dorothea looking around the new area. Their conversation pauses when Esther notices two familiar figures standing at the center. She exchanges a look with Dorothea, and at her shrug, walks up to the two with a smile on her face.

“Hello, do you need some help?”

The girl that could only be Leonie turns to her, hitching her sword onto her shoulder. “Oh, hey. I was actually wondering where the equipment room was.” She gestures to her blond-haired companion, “We were just training, but we couldn’t find where the practice weapons were, so I had to use my sword. I need to hone it again.”

“I’m pretty hungry after all that training…” Comment notwithstanding, based on stature alone, he could only be Raphael.

Esther is pretty sure she can hear his stomach growl, as if to punctuate the statement. “I was just giving a tour to Dorothea, here. If you’d like, I can show you two around the monastery as well, miss…?”

“Leonie Pinelli, and no need for the ‘miss’ business,” the girl says, grinning. She jerks a thumb in her friend’s direction, “And this is Raphael. We just met today, but we’re both from the Alliance so we kinda stuck together.”

Dorothea tilts her head. “You first day?”

“Yeah! The monastery’s a pretty big place. I’ve only been to the barracks, training hall, and dining hall, but the day’s already half over.” Raphael looks at Esther. “So what’s your name?”

_ Oh, right. _ “Esther.”

Leonie lifts an eyebrow. “No last name?”

“... von Nuvelle.”

The other eyebrow joins the first as she blinks, “A noble, huh?”

“Right? She doesn’t really seem like it.” Dorothea covers her mouth with a hand, giggling. “Her story about coming here is pretty interesting.”

“I mean, for empire standards she definitely doesn’t have the arrogance I was expecting.” Leonie gives her a once-over. “I’ve met a few nobles from my house and they’re actually not as stuck up as I thought they’d be…” She makes a face. “... Well, most of them. Some _ definitely _ live up to the ‘stuck up’ part.”

Esther smiles a little wider. She can imagine who Leonie might be talking about.

She shows them around the grounds briefly, directing them to the weapons storage, where the sharpening oil and tools are, and introduces them to Alois when they happen to run into him. After that, she tells them where the infirmary is—if they spend any time at the training grounds, it’s a place they will need to know.

She’s in the middle of telling them about the knight’s hall when Raphael’s stomach growls loudly enough to interrupt her.

“... Let’s go eat,” Dorothea suggests, laughing. “I’m feeling pretty famished myself.”

Raphael beams. “Sounds good to me! Nothing like bonding over a meal or two, after all.”

He’s the one that ends up becoming the group’s “guide” when they get there, somehow already knowing the full menu for the day. She doesn’t blame him—the food at Garreg Mach is _ really _ good, and she has yet to eat a meal that she doesn’t like. She finds herself considering trying to pull the cook over to her side in the future...

Leonie sidles up next to her. “That’s a lot of food.”

Esther looks down at her four plates balanced carefully in her arms. She looks up, and smiles.

“I’m hungry.”

Leonie gives her a skeptical look but doesn’t say anything else.

The four of them find an empty area along the hall to sit, Dorothea’s eyes going wide at the plates in front of Esther and Raphael.

Since they had met at the training grounds, they talk about study focus for the coming year and proficiencies. Unsurprisingly, Leonie is familiar in a handful of different weapons, though the spear is her weapon of choice. Raphael is partial to using his fists but has an interest in learning how to wield a weapon, a sword or an axe.

“I’m not sure,” Dorothea says, a finger tapping her lip. “I know my way around the sword a little, but it’s not much. I think I’d also like to study magic, but… I’m not sure.”

“This is as good a time as any to pick up something new,” Leonie suggests. “And even if you don’t know much about swordplay, it’s still a foundation to work off of. We’re all here to learn.”

Esther nods. That’s the reason many come to the academy, after all.

“What about you, Esther?” She turns to Raphael when he addresses her. “You’re dressed kinda like a mercenary, but I can’t tell what kind of weapon you’d use.”

“I’m decent at swords,” Esther says hesitantly. “My focus is magic.”

“You don’t use any other weapon?” Leonie leans forward, eyes narrowed.

“Not… really? I use a dagger, too, but like I said, my main focus is magic…”

She trails off as the girl gets a disconcerting glint in her eyes. Leonie smiles. “That’s no good. How about this—in exchange for helping me today, I’ll help you improve with swords and daggers. I was the best at both in my village.”

Esther swallows her remorse over yet another “sparring partner” being added to the roster. “Thanks.”

They talk about their lives prior to arriving at the monastery, Leonie mentioning her village and training, Raphael talking about his sister and friend. They mention things about the Alliance as well—she read about it, of course, but it’s different to hear the distinctions between the Adrestian Empire and the Alliance from people who actually lived there. Esther tells them the same story she told Dorothea, and Raphael laughs along with the songstress as Leonie stares at her with a look of disbelief.

Conversation remains steady throughout the meal as they get to know each other. Esther for the most part remains silent, choosing to observe unless directly addressed, and she feels a kind of contentment settle in her.

“Wow, you ate almost as fast as me!”

Esther smiles at Raphael, who beams back at her with a toothy grin. Leonie and Dorothea look at her empty plates with difficult to discern expressions.

“I was hungry,” she says.

Cyril comes to retrieve her shortly after, apparently to run an errand for Seteth. She says goodbye to the other three and follows Cyril out of the dining hall.

“Lots of work to do today?”

He glances at her before facing front again. “Yeah.”

“Well, let’s have another day of doing our best.”

He shrugs, and the walk to Seteth’s office is silent the rest of the way. He does give her a nod before he leaves though, so Esther considers the day to have been rather interesting on that front—three new people met on amicable terms, and an interaction with Cyril that was maybe a little friendlier than the last. Even if he only said one word and nodded.

School hasn’t officially started yet, and won’t for another couple of weeks. Even still, a few days into the start of move-in, Esther can feel just how much livelier the monastery gets with the inclusion of the year’s students.

The house leaders are at the monastery.

She knows this, because she’s seem them in passing. She’s seen the backs of the colored shoulder-capes, the most eye-catching and distinguishable features of the three. Even without the aid of the bright colors, Hubert and Edelgard cut a distinctive sight together, as do Dimitri and Dedue.

The house leaders are definitely present at the monastery, and Esther…

In some ways, she’s glad she’s been kept so busy.

Sure it’s in exchange for being wage-free labor, and keeping so busy will obviously be an issue in the future when she needs her schedule to be more fluid depending on the events that transpire. But she’s… Wary. She hasn’t decided on her course of action, yet.

Part of her has been battling with the idea of getting involved. Her first instinct is, of course, to reject the idea. It’s daunting, even with—maybe because of—her knowledge of what’s to come. She doesn’t even know what she would do, and involving herself would be equivalent to placing herself at the heart of danger. Possibly with no results to show for it.

But at the same time, she somehow finds that a part of herself is almost restless with the urge to involve herself. She doesn’t understand it, like she’s already invested in the endeavor and has to see it through to the end. As if it would be a personal failing on her part if she didn’t try to actively change things for the better.

And it’s true that she doesn’t want to simply _ survive,_ she wants wherever she lives to not be embroiled in a war rooted in misunderstandings and the machinations of a grudge-motivated group. But even more than that, the part of her calling for further involvement wants to change the course of the story that she knows.

And part of that, perhaps spoken out of loneliness, has her yearning for allies.

(But that’s asking for too much, isn’t it?)

Regardless of her wavering, what she does know is that she’s indecisive, and so she keeps her distance. She’ll need to come to a decision soon, she knows, but the story hasn’t even begun yet—she has time to consider her options more deeply, and when the time comes, she hopes it will be a choice without regret. She focuses on keeping an eye on the Church, watching out for the Agarthans, and deals with her daily tasks with as much efficiency as she can.

However, as… surprisingly easy as it is to avoid the house leaders, she finds that the same can’t necessarily be said about the other students she recognizes.

After the day they met, Dorothea makes a point to greet her whenever they meet, sometimes even seeking her out purposefully for a meal or simply to spend time together. It’s much the same with Leonie and Raphael, the former being an (unfortunately) added member of the group that likes to spar with Esther, only much more overtly critical of her glaring weaknesses—in the effort to help her improve, she says—and the latter having somehow found a fellow food-lover in Esther, and therefore having no compunctions in pulling her with him when he feels like having a meal.

It’s through them that she also meets Ignatz and Felix. It turns out that Ignatz was avoiding Raphael for a time, but with them having cleared away the initial misunderstandings, he begins to join them whenever they hang out.

In Felix’s case, he apparently ran into Leonie in the training grounds and they developed some sort of camaraderie over blades. The first time Felix and Esther meet, the two eye each other—the former with a narrowed look, the latter with a placid smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

Their interactions settle in the realm of a distant sort of acknowledgement, but they don’t ignore each other when they see one another around the monastery, at least.

Anyway, for the most part, Esther’s social circle grows as friendly faces are added, and many of them put in the effort to find her. Between Leonie and Raphael giving her more excitement than she ever thought she needed, and Dorothea, Ignatz, even Felix being calmer company—discussing life in the empire that fills in holes of Esther’s memory, talking about dreams and hobbies, or even being informally taught some sword forms to help improve her “pathetic lack of ability”—Esther is warmed by their gestures of amity.

She’s flattered.

It’s almost unnerving, how easy she finds it, to join in with them and relax. To make friends.

And this is what she yearned for, she realizes—her memories of both lives have holes, blanks where there should be something, and among these holes is the absence of family. _ Friends._ Of meaningful connections and relationships with others.

She had hoped for this with Abelia and Arne, but distinct lines had been drawn, and she hadn’t tried to force the issue. She didn’t want to drive them away, and she didn’t want to be an imposition. As long as they stayed by her side, it was fine.

But here, it’s something else. These kind, bright people offer her friendship, and she finds herself reaching out in turn as a man in the desert reaches for an oasis.

The fact she has prior knowledge of them, a preexisting interest and connection, however one-sided, also contributes to this. But not by much. She wants to get to know them, not as characters in the story she once read, but as people. As those who she knows will shape the future of this world, and by association, her own.

There’s the practicality of it. She needs to keep an eye on things to see just who will be placed on the prevailing path, likely at Byleth’s side, but… That doesn’t mean she can’t get to know people. Maybe it’s naive, but she hopes that, maybe…

Maybe, her life here isn’t insignificant. Maybe, the paths she knows aren’t the only options.

And as she finds herself chatting with Dorothea under sun-dappled leaves, exchanging friendly blows with Leonie, weathering the attacks from Felix and steadily learning to give them back, eating warm food with Raphael’s equally warm company, and spending comfortable silence with Ignatz in-between her hectic tasks ... she hopes.

(She hopes that the victory of one won’t have to be paved by the tragedies of others.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> frost drew art of esther [here!](https://twitter.com/athanatosora/status/1188998400106041344)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really messed up the word count on this chapter… the notes didn’t seem like it’d be much but this ended up being twice expected count. the next chapter is like 3 pages longer jgkfldkgjfg so this is what it’s like to be an author… you plan things but the finished product is completely different
> 
> **ALSO, (possible) WARNING:** latter half (last quarter) of the chapter for violence? i... don’t rly know and the others weren’t sure either LOL. bc esther’s constantly in a state of “don’t open the repression box” even in the midst of killing her pov is more like (kills) “ok what’s next.” it doesn't get v graphic but a warning jic

_ “What do you think of life and death?” _

_ “Whoa, heavy topic. Not that I mind, but you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that.” _

_ A pause. “... How do you weigh the lives of people you see? Whether you pass them on the street, or know them as friends, or meet them on opposite sides of the battlefield… What is their life worth to you?” _

_ “A moral dilemma, huh… Well, a life is a life, regardless of my personal opinion on the individual. I don’t really think of it in terms of weighing importance, or value, of each person’s life.” _

_ “What if you met a friend on the battlefield, and your only choices are your life or theirs? What if you had no choice but to slay them?” _

_ “If there’s really no choice, then there’s no choice. But I’d like to think there’s always a choice.” _

_ “Always a choice…” _

_ “Always an alternative. It’s just a matter of looking for it, yeah?” _

* * *

The month turns to Great Tree Moon, the school year about to begin. Esther continues making strides to prepare for what’s to come—keeping eyes and ears out for the happenings around the monastery, and training in-between tasks she’s assigned.

She’s made progress with her magic. Before, it took a lot of effort, concentration, and also stifling her output in order to make sure her magic was controlled safely. She still can’t recklessly pour all her magic into a single spell, but she’s able to put comparatively more power into her attacks than before while still maintaining enough control to hit her target with precision.

That’s what she’s focusing on—improving her control in proportion to the amount of power she puts into each spell. The fact that something about Garreg Mach keeps her magic from detonating her surroundings helps minimize the damage, certainly. It’s also the most likely reason why her friends haven’t mentioned—or even noticed, maybe—the extent of her destructive capabilities. It didn’t take long for that to happen at the Nuvelle manse, after all.

As for her swordsmanship… the amount of swords that inexplicably break while she uses them have increased. It’s perplexing to the point that even Felix didn’t know what to say when he saw it.

… Well, he did have _ some _ things to say on her form, but it wasn’t nearly as much as it had been in the beginning. Considering his capacity for derisive criticism, Esther feels she could even call it gentle. He also said it wasn’t reason enough for the sword to break.

(She doesn’t know whether or not to call that progress, but it’s… something.)

That’s about it for her offensive capabilities, though. Beyond that is her sensing ability.

When she first realized this ability of hers, her first thought was about the possible uses. Overall, it’s an extremely useful power—though the scope isn’t that wide, and she can’t easily differentiate between different people unless she knows them well, it’s something she knows could be useful in a variety of situations.

_ Of course, I never would’ve expected it would be used in this way. _

She thinks this as she spins on her heel and begins walking in the direction opposite from where she can sense Seteth. She’d say she isn’t avoiding him, but that’d be a lie, because she is. Avoiding him, that is—and chores by association.

Esther slows her pace when she feels him turn a corner into a different direction, likely to the knight hall. This, too, is a form of training in a way.

She breathes out and allows herself to resume her initial task, trying to extend her detection as far as she can. Dorothea’s presence is an easily discernible beacon she recognizes immediately.

Leonie, Raphael, and Dorothea are the three she’s able to sense most easily. Ignatz and Felix are still a work in progress, which she assumes is because she doesn’t spend as much time with them. This ability of hers wasn’t something she thought attending Garreg Mach would help with—it hadn’t even been a consideration until she realized it was something she can actually _ improve _ on beyond those first few accidental applications of it, even if only slightly—but with the large crowds of people, it has been a good opportunity to test out its limits.

It definitely seems to be based on how familiar she is with the person. Not interpersonally, at least she doesn’t think so, but just… a matter of familiarizing herself with their presence, or aura. Something specific to the person. She’d think she was detecting their inherent magic if Raphael and Leonie, neither of whom are particularly strong in magic, weren’t so easy for her to find. Rather, it’s something else inherent to the individual, like learning to recognize a person’s voice amongst a group. The more she feels out their presence, the easier it becomes to tell them apart from others.

Moreover, her range also increases with that person, which is why she knows Dorothea is in the cathedral even though she herself is by the stables.

Esther closes her eyes and tries to find the others. Judging from the distance and direction, Raphael is in the dining hall, while Leonie is by the docks. It takes her a few minutes to locate Ignatz’s presence, but she eventually finds it above ground level, and in the direction of the reception hall—in the library, then, most likely.

It takes her a longer amount of time to locate Felix. She thinks she finds him in the dormitory, but she’s less certain than she’d like. She begins walking over to check.

The odd thing is that, even without having gotten to know them well, she can also detect Rhea and the three house leaders. Rhea’s presence in particular is distinct, similar to Seteth, so she assumes it might have to do with the fact that they aren’t human. But the house leaders?

There’s no real shared quality between the three of them besides the fact they’re the future leaders of their respective countries, but that doesn’t explain why they’d stand out to her like this. It could have to do with the story, in that they are the three pivotal characters. But if her ability is based on familiarity of presence like she assumes, she doesn’t see how that relates. 

Regardless, even though it’s suspicious, she’s thankful for it. She still hasn’t made the final decision regarding the path she’ll take, and so avoiding the most influential individuals in the coming days is her best option for now. Her ability certainly makes that an easy task to accomplish.

She will have to make a decision, soon. She will have to decide exactly what to do. But not yet.

The story hasn’t begun, so she still has time.

Her focus is to first make herself a decently useful ally to have before she goes forward with any preliminary plans, half-formed or not. She has her knowledge of future events, certainly, but that’s not something she wants to represent her total value—especially since part of the advantage of said knowledge is being able to _ use _it. But if she doesn’t have any power, what’s the point?

(Whether in terms of gaining allies or protecting herself from enemies, knowledge alone isn’t enough. No matter who she decides to ally with in the hopes of securing a happier future, things could go wrong—if whoever she approaches decides they’re better off silencing her, for instance, then she needs to be able to protect herself.

Even in the case of finding an ally she can wholeheartedly trust, she wouldn’t want to become a liability should their future enemies get ahold of her. She doesn’t want to become a burden.)

Between her sensing and her increased control over her magic, she’s almost ready to try some other applications of magic she’s put off until now due to danger. In particular, remote manifestation.

Generally, most forms of magic are manifested within a certain radius of the caster. There are some spells manifested from a distance too, of course, but they’re high level spells that only certain types of mages can use … and they still require a line of sight.

Esther has already found that, not only can she remotely manifest her magic regardless of the spell’s innate capacity, she can also do it without seeing her target.

It largely has to do with her sensing ability. The general flexibility of her magic leaves a whole avenue open to her regarding application, and adding that to her slowly improving ability to sense others …

She’s not at the point where she can safely test it around people she isn’t trying to kill, let alone _ on _ them, but it’s something to think about.

Esther does indeed find Felix on the second floor of the barracks, so she inwardly pats herself on the back for her accomplishment. He stands in the hall with two other students, talking with them.

As she gets closer, she corrects the thought that he’s talking with them, rather it’s more like he’s being talked _ at,_ because he’s not contributing to the conversation whatsoever. That’s not a surprise. She puts on a smile and walks up to them.

“Good afternoon, Felix. Who are your lovely conversation partners?”

Felix takes one look at her and spins on his heel. “Bye.”

Esther watches him go with a perfunctory wave. _ Still not happy about his impromptu haircut that last spar, I see. _

It’s not like it was her fault, and she hadn’t had the intention whatsoever. It was only a few inches. She also apologized quite genuinely.

… Thinking about it, that might have been why he hadn’t had as much to say about her form, rather than her having actually made significant enough progress for him to be impressed. He might have been too shell-shocked.

“Oh my, that was rather rude.” Esther turns to the blonde she’s certain is Mercedes. “I don’t know him that well, but the impression I’ve gotten from Felix is that he’s like that with everyone. I hope you aren’t too upset.”

Esther’s smile softens. “Oh, I know. I’ve been acquainted with him for the last few weeks.” She sketches a quick bow. “I haven’t seen you two around here before today. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Esther.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Esther.” She smiles, and Esther feels momentarily blinded. “I’m Mercedes. I only just moved in yesterday.”

“Ashe Ubert, nice to meet you too. I just arrived today, actually, so I guess both of us are new.” Ashe rubs his neck, smiling. “I was introducing myself to some of the others in my house, but I don’t really know the layout here…”

“If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask me. It’s not really part of my job, but I’ve guided a few other new students around.” Esther nods to the stairwell. “If you want, I can show you around too.”

“You’re not a student?”

She shakes her head. “Not formally. The circumstances that brought me here are a little unique, so while I _ am _ to be part of one of the houses and receive instruction from Professor Manuela, I’m also a teacher’s aide. Of sorts.”

Ashe gives her a curious look. “You don’t know what house you’re going to be in? Where are you from?”

“I’m from the Adrestian Empire, but due to my circumstances, I’m not going to be assigned to a class based on that. It’ll be whatever class Professor Manuela teaches.”

Mercedes clasps her hands together. “Ah, well, maybe we’ll be in the same house! That’d be nice.”

“It would be,” Esther agrees, still smiling. “Anyway, I’m actually on a break right now, so I have time. I can show you around if you’d like…?”

They end up walking around the monastery. Esther heads north and shows them to the training hall, first, then walks them around other points of interest, like the dining hall, the library, and the infirmary.

The last is definitely necessary to know the location of. Esther has been there many times—not solely as Manuela’s apprentice—courtesy of all the training she gets at the training grounds.

They’re walking down the road to the stables when Mercedes asks a question.

“Have either of you met the house leaders, yet?”

Esther glances her way.

“I’ve met his highness. He told me to address him casually, but… I don’t know if I can get used to that.” Ashe laughs, though it’s a little nervous.

Mercedes smiles. “I have yet to meet him, but Annie did say he’s very humble. I look forward to meeting him, soon, as well as our other classmates.” She turns to Esther. “What about you, Esther? What are your impressions of the house leaders?”

“I haven’t actually met them yet,” Esther answers honestly.

Ashe turns to her in shock. “What? You said you’ve been here since Guardian Moon, right? And I think his highness moved in last month… How haven’t you met any of them?”

Esther just smiles in lieu of an actual answer. She can’t exactly say she’s purposely been avoiding them without prompting some questions.

“Well, hearing about your tasks, you _ have _ been rather busy. And as the leaders, I’m sure they have been busy too.” Mercedes’ expression turns thoughtful. “But surely you’ve seen them in passing at least, right? Or heard about them. What house do you hope to join?”

_ That _ is a question that Esther has been asking herself, and she doesn’t know the answer to it, for many reasons. She’s been thinking less in terms of what she wants and more in terms of how to plan regardless of the situation, but if she’s to really consider it...

“I haven’t heard that much, so I can’t say. But I have friends in each of the houses, so whatever ends up being the case, I’ll be fine with wherever I am assigned.” She pauses. “Though, I suppose my first and foremost choice would be the Golden Deer.”

“Not the Blue Lions?”

Esther gives a startled laugh at Mercedes’ pout. “Of course, I would like to be in the same house as you. But I think I agree with the political structure of the Alliance more than the Empire or the Holy Kingdom.”

There’s more to it than that. But as usual, it’s based on vague feelings she doesn’t have the memories to place, so it’s set aside.

“You mean as far as the nobility-commoner divide goes?” Ashe asks. “It’s true the class divide is strong in Faerghus, but like I mentioned, his highness asked me to address him casually. If even _ he _ doesn’t try to reinforce his position, I don’t think that’d be an issue in our house.”

“One of the things I did happen to hear about the house leaders, is that they’re all rather lax regarding obeisance to their positions,” Esther says, “so that’s not exactly what I mean. It’s a little difficult for me to explain, sorry.”

Mercedes smiles warmly at her. “That’s okay, I think I sort of understand what you mean. Still, I hope you join our house—I’m sure it’ll be fun!”

Esther nods.

Ashe eventually splits from their small group, citing a need to finish unpacking his things, and after touring the greenhouse Mercedes invites her to eat with her and Annette. Esther’s first impression is that Annette is a bubbly girl, affirmed by the memories that she has.

“You specialize in magic? I thought you would focus on swords. You carry yourself like a knight,” Mercedes says.

Esther gives a pitiful look. “That would be nice, but I’m not very skilled with swords. Or any weapon, really—any skill I have is thanks to the numerous sparring partners I have, that are kind enough to make sure I don’t slack on swordplay.”

Annette gives her a considering look. “Huh. You’re not very good with swords, so you decided to focus on magic? Does that mean that’s where you’re most confident?”

“In a way,” Esther agrees.

“Why didn’t you go to the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery?” Annette asks. “They focus on magic, obviously, and the curriculum is at a high level. Not that Garreg Mach isn’t, but because the academy is linked to the Knights of Seiros, it doesn’t specialize in magic.”

“Garreg Mach is closer to where I come from,” Esther replies. “Moreover, I left my home without getting approval from my parents. If I didn’t want to be dragged back, this was my only option.”

Annette’s eyes go wide. “You ran from home?”

Esther wonders how Abelia and Arne are doing. “I wouldn’t call it that, but… yes?”

“Why did you leave? Was… Was your situation poor?” Mercedes frowns in concern.

Esther considers the two before her, and smiles. “I’m from House Nuvelle. We don’t have the money to fund my attendance anywhere, and my father is the type that will want me to marry into a higher-standing noble house to secure Nuvelle’s future. I’m not exactly willing to live that life.”

Mercedes and Annette share a look that seems a lot like sympathy.

“... It’s not so bad, of course,” Esther adds when her conscience pangs. “I’ve never been very close with my parents. I simply wanted a new life, and I’ve met many good people even in the short time I’ve lived here.” She smiles, “Afterall, I met the two of you, right?”

The conversation turns to other topics after that, Mercedes and Annette both divulging a bit of their pasts and motivations to attend Garreg Mach. Esther still feels as though she’s deceiving them, but she rationalizes it—her desire to befriend them isn’t for self-serving purposes necessarily, rather, she wants to keep an eye on as many people as possible.

(Uniting people under the same goal will make it easier to keep track of them. The easier it is to keep track of them, the less likely they will be to die.)

“Don’t hesitate to find me if you need help,” Esther says with a smile. “Even if we end up in different houses, I would like us to be friends.”

Annette voices her agreement with a sunny smile. Mercedes affects a look of faux shock before saying, “Are we not already?”

Esther feels a tension within her loosen. She smiles, warm.

In the evening, after she has completed the assignment from Manuela, she thinks about the earlier conversation about the house leaders.

Whichever house she ends up in isn’t directly in her control, so she doesn’t put much weight in the assignment. However, what she does need to consider is to where her allegiances will lie, and how she might go about affirming them if she is assigned to a different house.

… Well, her “allegiances” lie with a peaceful Fodlan. Specifically, a peaceful Fodlan with as few sacrifices as possible. And if she’s being honest, the side with the highest chance of achieving that, is the Leicester Alliance under Claude.

In a way, she feels like her mind is already made up.

But she still puts the final decision to the side for later. She needs to remain flexible depending on what occurs, and while she has many plans and potential paths laid out in her mind, she isn’t setting her heart on any one of them yet.

* * *

Esther meets Flayn for the first time in the middle of leaving the library, her haul of required books for the day’s reading assignment in her arms.

Her first thought is, _ Cute. _

Her second is something along the lines of a resigned, “again?” as she collides into the girl she didn’t see, because she can see through neither books nor wall corners.

(Never mind her sensing ability. Her excuse is that she still has to focus to consciously use it for people she isn’t familiar with.)

In a scene eerily reminiscent to Esther’s first meeting with Dorothea, the two of them collide, Esther once again more or less unaffected with the other party less fortunate. But Esther manages to grasp her shoulder before she tilts fully backwards, righting Flayn with a fluid grace she didn’t realize she had.

_ I guess all that training has helped somewhat, _ she thinks.

Quick recovery is important, as she’s quite intimately come to learn, when fighting the many adept fighters of the monastery. It’s possibly the only reason why she isn’t seen limping around the monastery every day.

“I apologize, I wasn’t paying attention,” she says. “Are you all right?”

Flayn blinks owlishly at her for a few moments, her eyes unfocused. She shakes her head. “No, it’s—I mean, yes, I am quite all right. I was also not paying as much attention as I should have.”

Esther smiles. “Are you a student here?”

“No, I have a relative who works here...” Flayn’s eyes narrow on her as she leans in. “Are you Esther?”

Reflexively, Esther leans back from the suddenly assessing gaze. “Yes. You must be Flayn.”

Flayn pulls back, surprised. “You know me?”

“Your brother, Seteth, has spoken about you in passing. Once.” Or never, more like, but Esther didn’t mean to reveal she knows her and it’s as good a defense as any. “You resemble him, so I thought he might be that relative of yours who works here.”

“Hmm…” Again, Flayn’s eyes don’t quite meet hers, instead seeming to dart around her, instead. “What family are you from?”

“House Nuvelle of the Adrestian Empire.”

“On your mother’s side? Your father’s side?” Again, Flayn inches closer. “Do you know if you have connections to anyone else? Maybe an uncertain family history?”

_ Why the interest? _ Esther clears her throat, smiling placidly. “I do not know. By the way, have you ever heard the myth that the four saints survived and still live today?”

It’s not that Esther minds the inquiry, but she genuinely doesn’t know due to her memory gaps, so she’d rather not be quizzed on information she doesn’t know. It just so happens that, of the information she _ does _ have, it includes knowledge to conveniently derail conversations she doesn’t care to have. Like this one.

Flayn’s eyes go wide and she all but leaps back, looking like the small, young girl she isn’t quite. Esther covers a genuine smile behind her hand. _ She really is cute. _

“I—No, of course not! And how could they, it’s been over a thousand years since they lived. Such a thing couldn’t...” Flayn trails off, her eyes moving past her. “Brother!”

Esther stiffens, smile frozen. _ That’s not a word I want to hear from her. _

Her eyes dart across the room even as she stays perfectly still. The closest window is only a handful of meters away, and it’s not like it’s a long drop down…

“Ah, Flayn, I hope your day has been well.” A hand lands on Esther’s shoulder like an ill omen descending upon her. “And Esther, I was looking for you.”

Esther stares longingly at the window, but ultimately resigns herself to her fate. She turns to Seteth with a smile. “Good day, Seteth. Was there something you needed?”

“Yes. We are running late as it is, as I had trouble locating you.” He turns, “Come with me.”

Esther exchanges a look with Flayn, who looks about as confused as she feels. She waves goodbye to the girl and follows after Seteth. “What’s going on?”

“You’ll need to meet some people, because you’ll be working with them next week. I’ll explain the details when we get there.”

It’s not a long walk, only to the other side of the floor in the same room Esther had been accepted as a pseudo student. She walks in and sees a few familiar faces seated along the table. The knights she trains with—Dieter, Julian and Kylian, she knows their names now—as well as Alois, turn to her and wave when they see her. There are a handful of others, some outfitted in the armor of the Knights of Seiros, some not, but she doesn’t recognize them.

Seteth moves to the head of the table, and Esther, not really knowing what else to do, grabs the closest empty chair and sits.

“Ahem.”

She blinks when Seteth clears his throat, not understanding what’s going on. He sighs, then points to the floor between him and a man she doesn’t recognize.

_ … Maybe if you actually explained it to me, _ she thinks as she walks up to the front, maintaining a smile to affect indifference. The burning of her ears tells her it might not be very convincing. 

“As most of you know, you will be going on the new year excursion with the students to help them adjust to the coming tasks. The instructor in charge will be Marin,” Seteth gestures to the man Esther stands next to, “and Esther will be his aide. The knights assigned to this outing are in charge of keeping the students safe, and handling any task these two require.”

Esther suddenly has a piece of paper in her hands.

“As listed, there are some expectations for what the event will entail. Marin and Esther will be handling the specifics, which you will be notified of. For now, this is a general outline of the itinerary.”

Esther side-eyes Seteth. _ Considering I’m supposedly one of the people in charge, he didn’t really give me much advance notice. _

“For those of you unfamiliar with the excursion,” he says, as though privy to her thoughts, “the idea is to have the students become used to the conditions they will likely be experiencing in the coming months. It’s a sort of survival camp.”

“Many students are nobles. As such, this is a necessary introduction to living in the wilderness and out in less than ideal conditions. It also provides a good opportunity for students of varying backgrounds to be placed together without inherent social barriers, so as to foster interaction as comrades.” Seteth turns to Esther and Marin. “What you plan specifically doesn’t matter as long as it adheres to this sort of idea. The knights are to aid you in keeping order and ensuring safety.”

_ Huh. _ “What are some of the usual events that have been planned in the past? And where does it usually take place?”

“In the wilderness, of course.” The man next to her, Marin, interjects. “There’s no point if the students are kept safe in the monastery. And of course, the activities have been focused on teamwork and survival skills, as has been stated.”

Esther turns to him with a placid smile with no meaning. “Thank you.” _ That answered none of my questions. _

She decides she’ll ask Seteth later.

Seteth discusses more of the details and the knights are given specific tasks. Alois proclaims, loudly, that the students will definitely be safe, because they will have the Knights of Seiros with them. Julian just shakes his head as Kylian, Dieter, and a handful of the other knights cheer together. Seteth sighs.

Esther feels a slow-building headache, a slight pressure behind her eyes, but it’s nothing different from usual. Moreover, the knights’ excitement is contagious—she finds herself looking forward to the excursion, too.

Besides leaving to the town to run errands, she hasn’t had the time to actually leave the monastery, which means that all her training has been limited to whatever is safe within Garreg Mach’s walls. She hopes that this excursion might be an opportunity to finally test some applications of magic that she can’t in the monastery.

Seteth dismisses them shortly thereafter with a warning to prepare accordingly. She turns to him as he’s gathering his papers.

“Seteth, do you have a roster of the students?”

He doesn’t pause, glancing at her briefly. “For the excursion, no, because it isn’t mandatory.”

Esther blinks. “It isn’t?”

“No, but the students don’t know that, and it shall stay that way. It’s a good experience for them, after all.” He straightens, handing her a collection of papers. It’s the full roster for the year. “Prepare while expecting no more than… eight students not being in attendance.”

Esther leaves, looking for Marin. She wishes she was working with Manuela or Hanneman for this, not only because she is more familiar with them, but also because she isn’t very partial to this new instructor.

She realizes it is mostly her own fault—she’s been familiarizing herself with those she _ knows, _ but of the instructors and staff members that were never named in that story, she hasn’t put forth the effort to get to know them, as well.

_ I don’t like him, but I also don’t know him. We can at least work together. _

It takes her an hour to track him down at the entrance of the cathedral. She doesn’t know how he managed to escape her notice for so long when she left the board room barely three minutes after he left, but she puts her exasperation to the side and pastes on a smile as she walks up to him.

“Professor Marin, do you have a moment?”

An expression flashes across his face too quick to discern, before a smile that mirrors her own surfaces. “Ah, miss Esther, was it? What do you need?”

She pulls out the roster Seteth handed her. “I asked Seteth for the roster. Apparently, this isn’t a mandatory event, so there will likely be some absences. He still said to prepare the event with the idea that only a handful of students will be absent, in mind.”

Marin grabs the roster and looks it over, eyes narrowing. “I see… Well then, I will be sure to prepare something in a few days.” He tucks the roster under his arm.

Esther’s smile doesn’t falter. “... I was hoping we could discuss ideas right now?”

He waves a hand through the air. “No need. We can simply go with the standard procedures from previous years. Hunting, shelter preparation, general survival skills, tournament style sparring, targeted training, and free time.” He spins on his heel and begins walking away. “I’ll find you in a few days.”

Even after he rounds the corner, Esther stands there for a good minute before letting her expression drop. She doesn’t know what to think about him, but Seteth apparently trusts him enough that he’d put him in charge of the event. Personal thoughts aside, he doesn’t seem _ incompetent, _ just a little… odd.

Esther knows that, the only reason why he seems odd, while the other colorful individuals she’s met _ don’t _ , is solely because of that story from another life. _ I’m pretty biased. _

She decides to not worry too much about it for now. Instead, she decides to enjoy the fact that she doesn’t have even more tasks to deal with.

That is an unfortunately short-lived enjoyment when Hanneman tracks her down for yet more crest-related research.

* * *

Three days later, Esther is in the middle of lunch with Dorothea and Raphael when Marin tracks her down again.

“This is the plan for the excursion,” he says in a contained rush, all but shoving a small stack of papers into Esther’s hands. “Make sure everything is in order. I have some things I need to do.”

He leaves and walks out of the dining hall before Esther can even think of a reply.

“... Huh,” Dorothea says eventually, eyebrow raised. “So, that’s Professor Marin? Seems a little… quirky.” A pause. “Though I guess Professor Manuela and Hanneman have their own quirks, too.”

“He’s definitely something,” Esther agrees.

“In the performance industry, I’ve met a few like him. More the composers and choreographers than the performers themselves, but it’s a similar sort of attitude. That, ‘I’m so distracted by my next project I don’t notice you’re there,’ type of mindset.”

Esther doesn’t really know what to make of him. She looks down at the papers in her hands. _ Well, at least he didn’t just push all the work on me so he could focus on other things. _

“Anyway, what were we talking about before he blew in here like a storm?”

Raphael perks up. “Good restaurants in the town.”

“No, no, before that. It was the reason why we were thinking about restaurants… Oh!” Dorothea snaps her fingers. “You said you wanted to introduce me to some new friends you made?”

Esther nods. “Mercedes and Annette from the Blue Lions house. I was thinking, since we’re all either thinking of studying magic or already have a background in it, it could help. The two of them went to the Fhirdiad School.”

Dorothea blinks. “As in, the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery? It’d definitely help me out to hear more about that experience, but I don’t know if there’s much I can give in exchange…”

“It’s not an exchange, though that _ was _ part of the reason I suggested it.” Esther smiles. “Mostly, I just want to introduce my friends to each other. I think you’d get along well.”

She turns to Raphael. “And, I think I’d like to introduce you and Ignatz to Ashe. Maybe Felix, too, that’d be an interesting dynamic and I’m sure you both could learn from each other…” She trails off as though in thought. “... Actually, I could just have you all meet? There’s no reason why it has to be split up. We could all stand to learn from each other, and it’d be nice.”

“My, that’s a pretty big group you’re putting together.” Dorothea grins. “What is this? Some grand plan of yours to improve inter-house relations?”

_ That… Is exactly the answer. _ Esther grins back. “Who knows? Like I said, I just want my friends to get along.”

“Well, I don’t mind having more training buddies! The more the merrier, I always say!” Raphael’s eyes almost seem like burning flames. “Maybe Leonie will want to join, too. And Lorenz may be an odd guy, but he could use the training. His arms are _ really _ skinny.”

“Lorenz, as in… Lorenz Hellman Gloucester?” Dorothea makes a face. “I guess I don’t mind, and I’ve only met him once, but between my first impression and Leonie’s words about him... I’m not impressed.”

“I think you’d actually find it fun.” When Dorothea turns to her with a skeptical look, Esther leans over in mock discretion. “Remember the stories I told you, about getting thrown around the grounds while ‘training’ with the knights?”

Dorothea’s expression quickly turns contemplative.

They chat some more for the duration of their meal, time passing quickly in pleasant company. Esther looks over the itinerary Marin gave her.

The plan is that the day will be spent at the southwestern foot of the mountains below the monastery, in the forested area. She looks at the sketched map and frowns. “Arundel lands, huh.”

Marin simply handed her these papers without asking for her input, so normally, she’d assume that he must have handled the paperwork that would allow them to host in Arundel lands. But it has only been three days, which is hardly enough time for correspondence between Garreg Mach and the Arundel household to occur. That, and he did vaguely tell her to “make sure everything is in order” …

“Something wrong?”

Esther looks up at Raphael. “It’s nothing, it’s just that Professor Marin set the location to be in Arundel lands. It’s only been a few days since we were assigned this task, so I don’t know if he arranged everything for it.”

“... No offense to him, but he didn’t seem entirely put together,” Dorothea says with a minute frown. “You should check. If he hasn’t arranged it, we might end up angering Lord Arundel. I’m sure her highness would be able to handle it, since he’s a relative and all, but…”

“Just in case,” Esther agrees with a nod. She reorganizes the papers and stands, “sorry to leave before you two finished your meals, but I’m going to go check with Seteth.”

Esther finds him in the Cardinal’s room, going over paperwork. When she explains her concerns, he frowns, gesturing to see the papers Marin gave her.

A few moments of silence pass as he skims through the plan.

“It’s fine, but you were correct to check with me. He hadn’t submitted a copy of the final plans to me, nor did he inform me that it was to take place in Arundel lands.” He clicks his tongue. “He’s capable in his area, but that man…”

“Does the excursion not always take place there?”

Seteth hands her back the papers. “No. The plan is as usual, yes, but the location is not—at the southern pass down the mountain is a forested area, still part of Garreg Mach lands, that we have used for this excursion in the past.”

Huh. “So should we change the location to there?”

“No, there’s nothing wrong with the plan as Professor Marin has laid it out, it just requires an extra step. Since he himself has not handled it, and you are not in a position to do so, I will be contacting Lord Arundel for permission.” Seteth sighs, gesturing with a hand. “Thank you for informing me. You may go now.”

Esther hesitates, apprehensive.

She knows that the Arundel lord has deep ties to the Agarthans. As Thales, he is even one of the leading forces—maybe _ the _ leading force—that push for revenge against Sothis, Rhea, the Church, and humanity.

She doesn’t know if this event is something to be wary of. She doesn’t recall this excursion happening, but she’s wary to even be in the same lands as the hidden Agarthan leader due to his involvement in future events.

But.

She doesn’t think this excursion is something she has to worry about, as far as the Agarthans go. Actual allegiances aside, Arundel keeps up appearances well, and he hadn’t proceeded with his grander plans until late in the story—she sees no reason for him to act this early when the events from that story haven’t begun yet.

She also knows that this event is something that happened, based on Seteth’s words about it being a yearly event, so she knows it’s not something she changed. There’s still the possibility that it’s an event where something dire is to happen, but she’s at least confident that its scale will be minor, if anything. 

When she first regained her memories and started researching the houses in the Adrestian Empire, this is what she told herself: even though she knows the major players, she can’t move against them herself. Moreover, there’s no point in trying to analyze every move they may or may not make, especially since many of them are still going to be acting for appearances to hide their actual motivations.

There’s also a part of her that is, somehow, almost _ worried _ about changing the location. It’s not the lung seizing fear of before, nor a slowly simmering anxiety that betrays a pivotal decision in the near future, but the unexplained concern is still there.

Whatever’s the case, despite her wariness about Arundel, everything seems to point towards the conclusion that she should leave the situation be.

Esther bows her head in goodbye and leaves Seteth to his work.

* * *

The excursion postings are up around the bulletins within the week, and an official announcement is made a few days in advance. The students are given the time to prepare for the excursion, and the monastery is abuzz with activity in anticipation for the school year’s start.

Esther herself doesn’t have to prepare much. She packs her standard travel gear she’d grown accustomed to in her territory clearing with Abelia. She checks in with some of her friends to see if they need help, and ensures they don’t pack too little or too much for the outing.

The morning of the 22nd of Great Tree Moon, the students all form a travel party to begin heading down the mountain—Marin at the front, Esther at the back, and the various Knights of Seiros assigned to the excursion maintaining the formation. The way there is treated as a drill in and of itself for marching formations, which makes the trip a little lengthier than usual.

It’s nearly lunchtime when they arrive at the base of the mountain, the sun high in the sky. The first task is to get food and prepare it, the knights spread throughout to help students gather food and start the fires. It’s pretty lively.

Esther sits on a stone next to Kylian as he lectures her on the importance of fire-starting.

“You may have your magic, but someday you’ll find yourself in a situation where it’s inaccessible.” He waves a small stick in her face before dropping it in the pile of kindling. “Make sure you watch, okay? It’s always good to know how to survive without the tools or abilities you’re used to relying on.”

He grabs the flint they’d searched for earlier and holds it at the tinder. “The way you strike it is important to be careful of. See, if you do this…”

He explains the technique of it, as in-depth as his prior explanations on the gathering of proper kindling and tools was. He strikes the flint several times before the tinder catches.

Kylian crushes it in his hands, the small spark going out, and he gestures to Esther. “Okay, now that you’ve seen how I do it, you try.”

She picks up her own flint and gets to work. Ten seconds later, Esther blows on the small flame of the tinder, and they watch rise up into the kindling with ease.

Kylian stares at her in shock. She just smiles, the expression perhaps a hint more smug than usual.

_ Abelia is a good teacher, and I’m a dedicated student. It only makes sense this would be among the things I learned while we were traveling the territory. _

“... Not bad,” Kylian eventually says, shaking away his shock. “If only you were this quick on the uptake when we trained.”

Esther immediately deflates.

Kylian moves on to help the others as Esther smothers her fire. She sees Marin directing students to stay in the area, so she goes to the opposite side and does the same. Even with the knights present, it’s safer for the students to all stay in as contained an area as possible.

Lunch is an interesting affair. Three times Esther finds herself mad-sprinting to a student before they stuff a poisonous plant into their mouth, which turns into a very brief lecture courtesy of Marin on the edible flora and fauna indigenous to the area.

Although he’s a little scatter-brained, Esther thinks she can see why he was trusted with the excursion.

After the meal, the Knights of Seiros help set up the area for grouped training drills and sparring matches. It’s a little boring—because Esther trains with the knights regularly, she’s kept on the sidelines, leaving her with little to do but walk around. She ends up finding the groups her friends are in and cheering them on in support.

Leonie shows her proficiency not only with spears but also with swords when she takes out her two opponents in succession, using her first opponent’s weapon when her own is knocked out of her hands. She gives Esther a thumbs up at the match’s conclusion.

Ignatz, in a different group, doesn’t fair as well against his opponents. He wins against the first, but is taken out in the second round when his bow is stolen. Esther and Leonie still congratulate him, pointing out where he did well even despite his defeat.

Esther makes sure to cheer especially loud for Felix. One shout has him misstep and nearly fall into mud. He still wins his match, of course.

Before sunset, the students are once again split to gather supplies and prepare dinner, this time the roles reversed—those who gathered supplies are tasked with starting the fires and vice versa. After bringing the food back, they are split up once again based on volunteers for who will cook and who will set up the shelters for the night. The knights help out, of course, as do Marin and Esther, but the end result of tents and structures ends up looking about as uniform as the students are experienced. Which is, not very much.

As one of the supervisors, Esther doesn’t set up a tent—rather, she is put on rotations with the knights to supervise the camp, so she finds a good vantage point of the area and decides that’s where she’ll stay during her shift.

She watches the students, some of them her friends, many unfamiliar, as they converse by the fires over their meals. At the start, it was nearly silent due to lack of familiarity, whether with the situation, with those around them, or the area. But now, it’s lively.

_ It’s nice. _

Esther’s gaze trails across the numerous campfires before catching sight of familiar faces, and she heads over to join her friends.

* * *

Esther’s eyes fly open. Her hand holds her dagger in a white-knuckled grip, and she can hear the rush of blood and the pounding of her heart.

Her gaze darts across the immediate area, and she forces her muscles to relax as she shakes herself from the sleepy haze still settled around her mind.

Alert. There’s no sound save for the wind against the fabric of the tent. She can feel the crowd of presences outside, most indiscernible but there, her friends like familiar sparks of light.

_ What woke me up? _

She isn’t nearly on Abelia’s level in any of her specialties, but her sensing ability gives her an advantage over most. She knows the difference between her body naturally waking up and something alerting her.

Esther looks around her, and notices something else is wrong. She and Dieter had been on the same shift on opposite ends of the camp, so when the rotation came, they both retired to the faculty tent at the same time.

She’s alone.

_ Where— _

A shout.

Esther is moving before she consciously recognizes the sound, hearing it increase into multiple as she’s strapping on her weapons. She darts out of the tent and immediately enters chaos.

People she knows are _ not _ students run through the camp, tearing through shelters with weapons and torches in hand. _ Bandits? Mercenaries? _

She isn’t allowed the time to consider when she sees an enemy’s sword bear down on a student.

Something bursts from her, and she’s suddenly _ there,_ the bandit crumpling to the ground with a red gash cleaved deeply in his back. She senses another charging at her and she spins on her heel, her blade cutting through flesh and sinew. The man lets out a guttural sound, and his chest caves in before he hits the ground. 

A scream—Esther turns, sees the fires, the culprits waving the torches and setting fire to the area, the tents—

_ (“How dare you.”) _

—she reaches out with her magic and everything goes dark.

She runs near-blindly as her eyes adjust to the darkness, recalling the layout and positions before, visualizing the full situation and feeling dread pool low in her stomach.

The Knights aren’t there. Marin is nowhere to be seen. She’s the only one there.

_ Shit. _

Lights flicker within the darkness as bandits and students alike try to recover visibility, and Esther’s magic flares to life before she makes the conscious decision. Three heavy thuds echo in succession but are quickly drowned out by the resuming noises of battle and panic. The situation is not good.

“Stick together, and try to stay in the formations we went over today!” She darts between a student’s back and an enemy just as the axe is about to fall, plunging her dagger through the skull. “_ Stay together! _”

She worries that they can’t all hear her, but the terrified screams slowly die down as they regain their bearings and focus on survival. _ Good. _

(She stifles the surge of anxiety that wonders if the screams are stopping for a different reason.)

Her actions are a blur to her own mind. She moves on autopilot, watching the scene with her eyes and allowing her body to move, intercept, kill, move, disarm, burn, dodge—she can’t be everywhere at once, but with the students staying together they not only reveal less openings but also give her a smaller area to traverse.

She sees one student collapse to the ground, weapon discarded. She isn’t the only one—three enemies converge on them, and Esther shoots two spells in succession as she runs forward.

Her hand hooks on a collar and she _ yanks, _ “Get back in the formation if you _ don’t _ want to die!”

She keeps her attention on the student just long enough to know when they make it back to the group, and she ducks low to avoid the axe that splits the air above her head. She follows forward and through with a twist, slicing outward with her dagger, a howl of pain preceding the scrambling thud that follows.

A glint of metal approaches her neck, a hand brushing against her arm.

“Don’t mo—“

_ (Fury as consuming as the blazing fires. “How dare you.”) _

A snarl. She spins on her heel and her arm snakes out, she feels the back of her hand collide with skin and flesh—

Blood splatters.

A breath, and silence. The body collapses in a motionless heap.

Esther stares at her hand, coated in blood and spit and what might be brai—

She shakes her hand of the what blood and flesh she can, placing the image from her mind.

_ Probably… magic. _

It’s a possibility she never even thought to consider, and if it’s true, her potential for physical power is much more than she thought.

But it’s not something to contemplate now. Esther finds the remaining enemies and weaves her magic into a spell.

The sounds of battle die down shortly thereafter, Esther only having killed thirteen before the fighting stops completely. Even though the start was hesitant, it didn’t take much before the students began overwhelming the opposition despite their inexperience.

Esther watches a few enemies retreat and stops herself from going after them. She isn’t here to kill, she’s here to protect the students, so a few of the attackers getting away isn’t what matters.

She breathes.

“All of you, gather here!”

The crowd does, and a cursory look reveals the familiar faces of her friends. _ About fifty, and no one has mentioned anyone missing. It looks like everyone is present. _

Esther shoves away the inexplicable, mounting anxiety she feels. She still has things to do.

She takes another steadying breath. “You all did well. Is anyone injured? Step forward.”

Less than a dozen step forward, and though one boy in particular grips his arm where a red patch seeps through his shirt, Esther doesn’t see any life-threatening wounds.

When she asks if anyone knows first-aid, seven students step forward, and Esther has them treat the injured in demonstration to the students that don’t. She nearly grabs an injured student to help but is quickly reminded of her less than sanitary state when she gets a look at her hands. Instead, she gets a student amongst those that don’t know first aid, and once her supplies from the tent are retrieved, she begins directing the process of helping the injured.

She quietly thanks Manuela for preparing her for just this sort of situation, even if she doesn’t have the capacity to use Faith. Even still, she misses the woman’s presence dearly.

… Rather, she wishes _ any _ of the faculty were there, at that moment.

After Esther’s demonstration, she lets the students that know first aid handle the rest, and walks the area to check for survivors. One, for fear of having lost any students, and two, to make sure the enemies who attacked them are well and truly dead.

Esther feels a tension in her release when she doesn’t see any bodies wearing the familiar uniforms of the academy. She begins counting the dead attackers, her conjured flame searing a leg or arm to test any who aren’t as dead as they appear.

It’s at the fourth that she realizes that they’re bandits she herself killed. She looks across the battlefield and does a quick count.

_ Thirteen. _ She recounts them for good measure. _ These are all my kills. They’re definitely dead. _

That means the students didn’t kill the bandits that attacked, either sparing those who were fleeing or running themselves before Esther scared the attackers off.

It’s fine—even if she doesn’t have the exact numbers because of it, her initial assessment of the situation showed about eighteen, maybe twenty bandits total before they started retreating. Even without having briefly counted them, from the outset it was clear that the students outnumbered their attackers.

It doesn’t sit right with her. _ Eighteen to take on nearly sixty students? Maybe it could be reasoned that the school year hasn’t started yet, and all the students are untrained. But the Knights of Seiros... are… _

Esther’s gaze goes cold.

_ … not with us, right now. _

She looks around, and as she thought, not a single knight—whether dead or alive.

The anxiety, then ignored, surges back to the surface. She feels a realization forming at the back of her mind, and it isn’t a good one.

Each house this year is approximately twenty students, the total headcount reaching fifty-nine. Fifty-two of the total came out while the rest stayed at the monastery.

Esther’s eyes dart over to the crowd of students.

_ … Forty-four. _ She almost starts recounting, but the numbers are disparate enough that she knows that she can’t be nearly ten heads off. Forty-four.

The Knights are missing. Professor Marin is gone. Nearly ten students are missing.

Three distinct capes are absent.

_ An attacking force barely a third of the target. Just before the school year starts. Professor missing. House leaders separated. _

Esther walks back to the crowd and shouts. “Leonie Pinelli, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Petra Macneary!”

She doesn’t bother waiting for them to walk to her. She pinpoints the locations of the former two and finds Petra, pulling them over to the side.

“There are students missing, but I can’t just leave all the students here when I’m the last supervisor. The three of you are in charge.”

Leonie’s eyes go wide. Esther answers the unspoken question.

“It’s best if someone from each house leads their group, and I chose you for a reason. Leonie, you’re both personable and experienced in battle, which will make you the best temporary leader for the Golden Deer. As the Brigid princess, her highness also fulfills those qualifications for the Black Eagles.”

Esther turns to Felix. “... I don’t know your house well. Just give the duty to someone else if you know someone better.”

Felix’s expression looks like he’s torn between glaring and rolling his eyes.

Esther turns to address the students at large, “You all will wait here and follow the orders that these three give! They will be your temporary leaders, so listen to them!”

She doesn’t wait for a response; she spins on her heel and heads to the southwest.

_ House leaders, separated. Knights of Seiros. Bandits. Remire Village. _

_ Byleth. _

It makes perfect sense, now that she knows the connection. This hadn’t been an event she knew the details of, but the situation is clear.

Esther smiles, wry. _ Is this why I was so certain about this location, even though I couldn’t remember? _

She pushes through the burning of her legs as the sounds of battle drift towards her.

She doesn’t know how much she’s changed. The event is the same, but things she isn’t certain of are _ different, _ and even if everything turned out okay in that story, she can’t say the same here.

Esther senses them. Edelgard, Claude, Dimitri—then a fourth, and a fifth; presences she doesn’t readily recognize.

(And yet, one is still…)

She bursts through the trees, eyes immediately zeroing in on the scene.

Bandit corpses around the battlefield. At the center, one side are the surviving bandits, the other, the students, Byleth between them. They aren’t watching the bandit leader.

(Time slows to a stop.)

Esther’s feet hit the ground.

The bandit leader runs forward, axe high in the air—

Her arm snaps out, release—

Her sword stabs into and through his arm, his axe dropping from his impaled hand as he lets out a cry.

Esther leaps towards him, plants her foot in his face, hand wrapping around her sword’s hilt and ripping the weapon free as she kicks away. The blade snaps from the motion—she lands on both feet and tosses the hilt to the side.

She watches as the bandit leader howls from the ground. A fire spell spins into existence in her palm, tightly controlled and volatile, already aimed towards his head and the expected result clearly pictured in her mind—

—movement from the corner of her eyes.

Esther pauses.

She stares down at the man. She doesn’t cast the spell. The fire dissipates into the air as she grasps the feeling from earlier, directing it to her leg instead of her arm. She kicks him in the stomach towards the other bandits, feeling something give way as he’s launched into the air. He tumbles to a stop, curled in pain.

(She can sense the people behind her like a physical brand.)

Esther glances over the bandits, expression void.

“Leave.”

The bandits scramble to lift their presumed leader and escape into the thicket.

Esther feels her shoulders sag in exhaustion that isn’t entirely physical. She flexes her hands, grimacing at the dried blood from earlier, glancing to the broken remains of her sword. She’ll need to replace it, and her armor will need to be cleaned as well, but right now it’s more pointless to try than not.

“Who are you?”

Esther turns.

For the first time, she sees the faces of the three house leaders.

Claude von Riegan, future leader of the Alliance. Edelgard von Hresvelg, future emperor of the Empire. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future king of the Holy Kingdom. She’s seen the three of them in passing, but never in the same area, and never face to face—let alone the three of them watching her at once.

And…

She turns, grey eyes meeting blue.

Byleth.

Esther smiles, pretending the overwhelming sensation stifling her lungs is just a shortness of breath.

(It’s begun.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Esther after the initial confrontation, @ faculty and knights of seiros: wish you were here, haha! Really fucking wish you were here! Haha! h


	6. Chapter 6

_ "‘Fate’?” _

_ A nod. Silence save for the light clatter of ceramic. _

_ “If you are hoping for a positive view on it, I’m afraid you will only be disappointed.” _

_ “So, would you say... I’m ‘fated’ to be disappointed, if I am?” _

_ “...” _

_ A reflexive smile, embarrassed. “... It wasn’t that bad …” _

_ A cough. “Why do you ask?” _

_ “Out of curiosity. And to be clear, I share your view.” _

_ “Is that so?” _

_ “While I think it’s okay for people to believe in it personally, I think that the concept of a pre-scripted destiny that we aren’t allowed to deviate from, is…” A pause, searching for the word. “... Awful.” _

_ “‘Awful’? That’s the word you chose?” _

_ “... I couldn’t think of anything.” _

_ A laugh, “I’m not saying it was wrong, perhaps just insufficient. I understand the sentiment ...” _

_ Eyes of pale lavender overlap with a different scene. _

_ “... Because I, too, think it’s awful.” _

* * *

With the arrival of Alois and the knights, Esther doesn’t bother to stay, secure in the knowledge that the house leaders and the students that were separated with them will be safe. She rushes back to the camp ahead of them to make sure the other students are fine.

Some bandits escaped the initial confrontation, after all, and the leader is still alive.

She breathes a quiet sigh of relief when she enters the area and sees everyone salvaging the camp, tired but otherwise free of the panic and fear from earlier. She can’t blame them—it’s definitely past midnight, maybe only a few hours from dawn.

Leonie, Petra, and Felix all walk up to her when they see her enter the camp. Seeing them, and sensing Raphael and Ignatz not far off, Esther suddenly has the inexplicable urge to hug them all.

She doesn’t. She thanks the three of them for keeping watch over the rest, and lets them know that the other students, as well as the knights, are on the way back.

Esther wonders just how bad she looks when Petra asks if she is injured and Leonie wordlessly hands over her coat. She assures them she’s fine, and tries to give Leonie’s coat back in fear of getting it dirty, but the girl only waves her hand and says Esther needs it more than her.

Even Felix gives her a prolonged look that could almost be called concern before walking away. Esther is suddenly quite certain she looks like hell.

She goes to the nearby stream to clean off as much as she can, and when she arrives back at the camp, the others have returned. She makes eye contact with Alois, and when he gestures that he needs to talk to her, she feels sick.

They don’t walk far, just outside of the clearing where the camp is. Esther can still hear the chatter of the students and the knights.

“Professor Marin is officially missing in action. Unless, you know where he—“

“I do not,” Esther says. Whether in that story or here, she doesn’t know. He’s the professor that abandoned his students, leaving his position open and available for Byleth to assume. She doesn’t know.

She also doesn’t really care.

“I’m sorry.”

Esther turns to Alois.

His expression is the picture of regret. “When the bandits targeted the house leaders, we had to pursue, and their force was thirty-strong. I identified the leader with them, as well, so I hadn’t thought there would be others that would attack the camp.“

“That’s a pretty grave oversight,” Esther says.

She doesn’t know what she’s feeling right now, exactly. Anger, maybe, it would make sense, but even that doesn’t feel quite right.

“I was there, but I’m not faculty. I’m not a knight. I am not formally trained. And even despite that, if I _ hadn’t _ been there…”

Just what would have happened? How many of the bandits she killed were in defense of a student about to take a blow? And in many cases, a _ fatal _ blow? To the back, the head, aimed at the chest or stomach—if any of those had connected…

At the same time, Esther is certain this didn’t happen before. These were not events that occurred in the story. There’s no way—otherwise, it should have been an event that was mentioned. Whether it was regarding the sudden and unjust loss of students due to the oversight of the knights, the academy, it would have been _ something. _

So it means that Esther, herself, is the cause.

“... I left two knights here, before we left to pursue the bandits.”

Esther’s gaze snaps to him.

“They were found in the brush, in…” Alois trails off and visibly shakes himself. “We’re going to hold a quiet funeral for them, when we return. Don’t let the students know.”

“Why tell me, then?”

Alois bows. “I made a grave error.”

“Am I who you should be apologizing to?”

“I will be sure to apologize to the students, personally, each and every one of them if necessary. But I also owe you an apology too, because you’re right—I didn’t account for everything I needed to. And you were forced to deal with a situation you shouldn’t have, due to my oversight.”

Esther feels herself lose her tension, feeling only the exhaustion left. She considers the situation with a calmer mind.

Her headache, ever present, is more severe than usual.

“... It wasn’t your fault either. I didn’t know that you had left some knights behind. I can see you reacted as you should have: you saw a large force of bandits accompanied by their leader, pursuing the continent’s future leaders, and so you followed them while leaving a minimal force meant to simply oversee the rest of us. Two is small, but it’s still something.”

She smiles. “It wasn’t wrong to assume that the camp wouldn’t be in great danger. You probably thought Marin would be here, too, right? There was just no accounting for Marin disappearing, or for the knights you left dying, leaving me as the only one protecting the students.”

Alois is quiet, then he smiles, though it’s noticeably less exuberant than usual.

After a moment of hesitation, he reaches out to lightly pat her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, you did a good job. You protected them, all of them, today.”

Esther doesn’t reply, only maintains her smile. She cites needing to go back to help the others and walks away.

She appreciates the thought. But considering the revelations she’s had about the night’s occurrences, which she is quite certain weren’t supposed to happen, his assertion has questionable merit.

And yet, it’s an overly pessimistic view. In a way, this proves that her actions can and _ will _ affect the future. It’s just that, unsurprisingly, it will be in ways she cannot predict.

_ It’s a matter of adapting, then, _ she thinks to herself. _ And figuring out a way to account for all the ways it could possibly go wrong. _

Despite the two knights that died, she believes this is the best possible outcome she could have hoped for. The fact that none of the students died, that she managed to protect them… it means that this isn’t hopeless.

So, her presence can change things for the worse. But by her being there at all, she can consider other options, and try to steer the outcome in her favor.

_ It isn’t hopeless. _

The knights’ tent isn’t in bad shape, thankfully, only collapsed. It takes a handful of minutes for her to fix it before she moves on to helping other students.

She’s distracted, and a lot has happened, but she isn’t completely lost in thought as she moves around the camp to help. This is the reason why she braces herself when she detects a familiar presence approaching her from behind.

“Hello. I wanted to thank you for helping us, earlier.”

Esther lets go of the tent, certain it’s secure, then turns to bow. “It was no problem, your highness.”

When she straightens, she sees the frown on Edelgard’s face. “Please, no need for the formalities. We are all students at Garreg Mach.”

“Then, Edelgard?”

She smiles. “That’s fine. May I know the name of my savior?”

“I’m Esther.” Esther tries for a smile in return. “And really, it wasn’t anything to thank me for. It seemed like you guys had it handled before I arrived. I just acted on instinct.”

“Esther… As in, Esther von Nuvelle?” Edelgard’s eyes light up in recognition. “I heard you were at the monastery… you are from the empire. We will be in the same house, then.”

“My situation is a little different, so that might not be the case.”

“How so?” It’s a small movement, but her head tilts ever so slightly, inquisitive.

Despite herself, Esther feels her smile grow a little more genuine. “I’m officially under Professor Manuela Casagranda’s purview, as her… student. Maybe apprentice. So, it depends on whatever house she’s assigned to.”

“Hmm. I see.” Edelgard smiles, the expression somehow looking both gentle and sharp. “I do hope you end up with the Black Eagles, regardless. I believe we would get along.”

She leaves her to resume helping the other students shortly thereafter, and Esther carefully blanks her mind.

She knows that, if she lets her mind run off with all the thoughts threatening to overtake her focus, she won’t be sleeping that night. She still has time to make a decision, and she is absolutely exhausted—sleep is still important.

Esther does notice three other pairs of eyes on her at separate intervals as she walks the camp. She doesn’t let her own gaze meet theirs.

(She wonders why she can already recognize Byleth’s presence.)

Despite her best efforts, Esther still finds herself staring at the fabric of her tent until the sun’s rays light up the canvas.

* * *

At breakfast, Esther eats quietly amongst her friends as they talk about things she lends half an ear to.

They don’t seem to mind her inattention much. Rather, there’s an unspoken heaviness weighing on them all that goes unmentioned. Esther stares off into the distance, interrupted only when she’s about to faceplant into her bowl.

Leonie nudges her with an elbow. “Didn’t get a lot of sleep?”

“Didn’t sleep,” Esther corrects. She pops a handful of berries into her mouth without really tasting them.

Ignatz winces. “Yeah, I didn’t sleep either. Last night was a little…”

Their group goes silent.

“We all survived,” Raphael says, grinning. “Even if it was scary, we made it! We just have to get stronger so that we can protect ourselves, next time.”

The rest of them exchange looks and slowly begin to smile. Small, but there.

The atmosphere is a little lighter after that.

Everyone works on packing up and clearing out after breakfast. They resume the formations from the other day, and a couple hours before noon, they start heading back to the monastery.

Alois leads the group while Esther is positioned at the back, keeping an eye on the students walking ahead.

Her eyes widen when she sees Annette stagger. She’s moving forward before she makes the decision to.

“I’m just not feeling too well,” Annette says, even as Esther steadies her. Her face is pale.

Esther exchanges a look with Mercedes. Mercedes shakes her head.

“Really, both of you...” Annette straightens, and though her steps are a little unsteady, she continues forward. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”

“A lot happened last night,” Esther points out. The fact it was something the students weren’t properly prepared for remains unvoiced, but hinted at.

They walk in silence, and she thinks Annette didn’t hear her, but then she responds. “I just… it’s not like we didn’t have battles at Fhirdiad, but they were controlled matches. Tournaments, against students, like we did the other day.”

Mercedes nods, glancing to Esther. “It’s a very different atmosphere.”

“Yeah.” Annette pauses. “Against the bandits, that was life or death. I thought I had studied really hard, but I froze. Suddenly I was worried I might hit another student, and then I even began wondering if it was fair to kill the bandits. The ones that _ attacked _ us.” She sighs. “I had to be saved by someone else while I was distracted. Mercie was able to heal the others, but I couldn’t even…”

Esther hovers by her side, at a loss for words. Annette visibly shakes herself and smiles. “Anyway, I’ll be fine, really! It’s something we all have to adjust to. I can’t be weak like this.”

Something about the statement doesn’t sit right with Esther, but she can’t find the reason or the words to voice it. Instead, she reaches out and grasps Annette’s hand.

The girl startles, looking at their hands and then at her in surprise, but then she grins—significantly more genuine than before.

Mercedes takes her other hand with a giggle, and they both end up laughing with genuine smiles. Esther watches them with a feeling of warmth.

A little while later, a thought occurs to her, and she decides to go talk to Alois. At the inquiry from her friends, she assures them it’s not anything bad—she just wants to ask him how they should proceed from here on out.

She jogs up along the edge of the path so as not to break the formation of the knights. When she spots Alois, she sidles up to him and taps his shoulder.

“Esther?” His brow furrows. “What are you doing up here?”

“I had a question that I needed to ask.”

“Hm? Well, go on, then.”

She considers her wording, briefly, but then decides it’s best to state it as simply as she can. She lowers her voice. “Is there any chance Marin was the one to kill the knights?”

His eyes widen. “What!? He wouldn’t!”

Esther winces at his volume, as does Alois when he realizes his outburst. He speaks again, softer, “Why would you ask that?”

“He left his students behind to die.”

_ Is it really so impossible he might have taken it a step further and killed his comrades? _

Alois doesn’t reply.

“... It’s just a consideration,” Esther says with a placid smile. “I’m not saying we track him down, that might be more trouble than it’s worth, but I thought we should at least be wary of him if he shows up again.”

His steps don’t slow or change, but his gaze grows distant, clearly lost in thought. He straightens. “... I agree. I will talk to Seteth about it.” He sighs. “Marin, though eccentric at times, really seemed like a good and intelligent man... But, our priority is always the safety of the students.”

Esther tilts her head, as though considering. “... I don’t think I did so before, so right now, I’d like to apologize.”

“What?” Alois turns to her, puzzled. “Whatever for?”

“I reacted without knowing the full situation, and spoke out against you. I was the one that hadn’t realized you already did what you could.” A pause. “Even setting aside the fact that you are in a position above mine, I should have heard you out first.”

He frowns. “I don’t believe that’s the case. You are a student, yes, but you are also a comrade…”

“You were already trying to clean up the mess. You didn’t need a judgmental teen without all the facts adding to it.”

“Ah, well, that is the privilege of youth.” He chuckles. “I don’t believe you ‘spoke out against me’ or anything so serious. But since you are set on it, I forgive you.”

Forgiveness isn’t what she was after, but at least his smile looks genuine, now. Esther pats him on the back.

Just as she’s making her way back, Byleth all but manifests beside her. If she didn’t have her sensing ability she would have jumped in fright.

_ Still, _ she thinks, slightly perturbed, _ even though I’m not completely focused on my surroundings, how did he do that? _

It was clearly a purposeful move, so though Esther takes a quick glance to the back of the group, she stays with Byleth as she waits for him to speak.

The problem is, that… He doesn’t.

Esther waits. But they continue walking in silence, Byleth showing no indication of starting a conversation, despite his move having been with an intent. _ Or maybe not? Was it coincidence? _ Esther looks at the gap she’s pretty sure he was positioned at before, just behind the house leaders, then back to him.

_ … I can’t tell. _

Normally, Esther would find this… Weird. And plenty awkward, but right now, other than a little confusion, she doesn’t. Something about Byleth’s quiet presence seems familiar. Maybe it’s just the power of low-energy resonance between two somewhat similar individuals—Esther herself tends to keep her silence when not directly addressed. Even if it isn’t quite to this extent.

Still, her odd ease with the situation aside, she needs to return to her position.

She turns to him. “Was there something you needed?”

He turns to her. “Not necessarily.”

They continue walking. Neither trips on a stray stone or uneven ground, which is a miracle, because they’re staring at each other and therefore not paying attention to where they’re stepping.

Esther is the first to return her gaze ahead. “... Well, if you don’t need to talk to me about anything, I need to return to my position.”

Byleth nods. Then, he begins walking back to the spot he had been before, just behind the house leaders.

… She takes it back. While the interaction somehow, inexplicably, didn’t feel awkward, it still felt _ weird. _ That whole exchange was weird and no amount of unusual mindsets of hers can change that.

Esther moves back to the formation’s rear, and neither Mercedes or Annette ask any questions when she wordlessly grasps their hands.

They arrive at Garreg Mach some time in the afternoon. The students disperse at the gates, the knights head to the hall, and Alois goes to look for Seteth. Esther drops by her room to pick up her toiletries and heads to the baths.

Even if she’s gotten to the point where killing doesn’t weigh on her mind as heavily, she still isn’t partial to the feeling of dried blood, phantom or not. Among other things.

It's a pleasant bath, but she's too tired to enjoy it, the sole purpose being to get clean. She goes to her room afterwards and practically leaps at her bed. She's asleep before her head even hits the pillow.

Unfortunately, she wakes up long before dawn. She had planned to sleep through for the next twelve hours or more, but that isn’t what happens. She eyes the dark sky outside of her window.

It isn’t necessarily disruptive, but the movement and thuds coming from next door are still enough that she can’t get back to sleep. Esther wipes the sleep from her eyes and goes to investigate.

Blue eyes blink down at her.

“Oh. Hello.”

Esther pastes a smile on her face. “Hello, Byleth. Are you going to be my neighbor?”

He glances to the room next to his, her room. “I guess so.”

Silence.

“... I’m going to give you a tour,” Esther decides, and she pulls him to the main walkway before he can reply.

It’s less a conversation and more a lecture as Esther guides him across the grounds. He nods and gives a couple monosyllabic replies at most, but again, Esther doesn’t find herself overly bothered about it.

Again, something about the mercenary turned professor is… familiar. Maybe it’s that she finds similarities between them, both feeling lost and uncertain, yet still moving forward because there’s no other option.

Neither of them really knows much about themselves. Things any normal person would consider default knowledge, they would both struggle to answer if asked. Their situations are obviously different, Esther’s being an issue of memory and Byleth’s being a result of dying and hosting Sothis’ soul, but the similarity is there.

They’ve hardly exchanged words with each other, most of their interaction consisting of this very tour that is more Esther talking _ at _ him than any kind of conversation. She still feels a sort of ease with his presence.

After looping around the monastery, they end up at the classrooms.

“You're going to teach here, right?” Esther asks, pointing at the rooms. “You’ll need to be familiar with this place. Except for outings and going to the training hall, all lessons will generally be held in these three rooms.”

Byleth nods.

“Do you know which house you’ll be teaching?”

“... Not yet,” he says. “When I spoke with Rhea and the others, they said I could pick.”

“Do you want an overview of the houses?”

Byleth is silent for a few moments, considering. “... I’d appreciate that.”

She gives him an overview of the roster and general history, a dry statement of facts. He nods at certain areas, and asks questions at others.

She doesn’t bother trying to highlight one house over the other. She sticks to what she and most everyone would know, answering as many of Byleth’s questions as she can and assuring him that he can also ask the house leaders tomorrow.

It’s pretty late into the night by the time the two of them return to their rooms, Esther bidding him goodnight and Byleth waving a silent goodbye.

Despite her apparent familiarity with him, she doesn’t know what possessed her to go and give him a tour. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t realized just who it was in the room next to hers—she knows his presence, and sleep addled though she may have been, she could still tell who her new neighbor was.

_ … Felt a little social after my nap, I suppose. _

Sometimes that happens. Just an odd burst of energy here, a more-positive-than-usual mood there. Esther thinks she could even convince herself to go talk to the three house leaders, were it not for the fact she misses her cotton sheets.

The door locks behind her. She nearly goes back to collapse in her bed, but then she remembers the course plans she was tasked with memorizing. It sits on her desk, expectant and ill-intentioned.

Esther shoots a longing gaze at her bed before walking towards the desk.

* * *

A couple days later, Esther finds out that Byleth will be teaching the Blue Lions.

Both surprisingly and not, that information is easy to come by. Esther walks the monastery to find out about the other assignments, and runs into Hanneman and Manuela, the former saying he will be guiding the Golden Deer. That leaves Manuela with the Black Eagles.

By association, that means Esther will be with the Black Eagles as well.

There’s no real joy or disappointment or panic about it. She doesn’t feel anything at all, necessarily, as she nods at the information.

Esther knew she wouldn’t have much power over where she ended up, and so decided she would plan accordingly, considering all possibilities. She could have tried to sway Byleth to choose a specific house—she had the opportunity—but that wouldn’t have definitively determined her own placement, so she thought it unnecessary. Planning for all possible outcomes was her best choice.

… Or so it supposedly goes, but planning wise, she was most prepared in the situations where she ended up in the Black Eagles or Golden Deer. Her plan in the case she ended up with the Blue Lions was a little lacking, and in this way, she thinks it is fortunate that Byleth chose to teach them.

Still, being in the Black Eagles house is the most dangerous of the options. For a variety of reasons.

Esther is in the classroom courtyard when Edelgard finds her, as though summoned.

“Esther,” she says in greeting. “I’m glad I found you. I hope your morning has been pleasant.”

Esther nods, smiling. “Same to you. Was there something you needed me for?”

“Not particularly. But have you heard about the class assignments?”

“I have.” Esther lifts the folder in her hand. “I just ran into Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela. They let me know.”

“It’s a pity that Professor Byleth isn’t our teacher, but I’m also happy to have Professor Manuela for our Black Eagles.” Edelgard smiles. “I remember you mentioning that you’re something of a protege of hers, which means we’re in the same house.”

The smile she wears is honest.

Being with the Black Eagles is dangerous, yes. At this point, Edelgard has already committed ruthless acts for the sake of her goal, and her close proximity to the Agarthans leaves her as a large threat.

Even still, she isn’t evil.

In the future, she will commit even more atrocities built upon misunderstandings and deceit, she will make sacrifices to bring down a figurehead institution as dictated by the ones watching everything from the shadows. Without a doubt, Edelgard will change the entire continent, and anyone would be hard-pressed to call it mostly good.

But that’s the future. _ A _ future, and not necessarily definite. Whether or not Esther is someone that can change her ideals is a question to consider, but the fact remains that Edelgard is operating on false information, and that means there is something that can be done. Something _ can _ change. There’s a chance.

Edelgard is someone to be careful of, yes. But right now… she isn’t an enemy.

_ This wasn’t something I had specifically planned, but even still, I think this was an expectation I had somewhere in the back of my mind. _ Esther tucks the folder under her arm and stands. “Would you like to eat with me?”

Edelgard blinks at her. “I wouldn’t mind accompanying you. But I have to say, I wasn’t expecting the invitation.”

“Why?” Esther tilts her head, smiling wider. “You’re going to be my house leader, so of course, we should get to know each other.”

“That’s true.” An answering smile. “Then, I would be happy to join you.”

It’s still early in the morning, so the dining hall isn’t as crowded as it gets during the lunch and dinner hours. Esther sees Raphael and Byleth in line and walks over to greet them.

“Oh! Morning, Esther!” Raphael is the first to greet her, warm as always. “I was just talking to the new professor, here. Turns out he hasn’t tried the food here yet, so I was telling him about the usual menu.”

Byleth nods. “Good morning, Edelgard, Esther.”

“Good morning, professor.” Edelgard turns to Raphael. “I’m afraid we haven’t met before, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg.”

“Nice to meet you too, I’m Raphael Kirsten!” Raphael grins. “You’re the princess of the empire and leader of the Black Eagles, yeah? Claude’s talked about you.”

Edelgard’s brow creases.

Esther and Byleth stand side by side, watching the exchange as it continues. It’s a little interesting to watch such polar opposites interact.

They end up sitting at the same table after they’ve received their meals. Conversation proceeds with surprising ease, in no small part due to Raphael—Esther finds herself impressed with his energy and ability to keep the conversation going, even though he only just met Edelgard and Byleth. She is especially impressed considering the latter’s excessive quiet.

The topic shifts from casual topics to the disastrous excursion, and by association, what occurred when the house leaders were split up.

“So, what happened?” Raphael asks in-between bites. “The camp was pretty hectic when we were attacked, but I heard that was only a small group in comparison. You look all right, but the leader attacked you guys, right?”

“We requested help from nearby mercenaries in Remire,” Edelgard answers. She looks at Byleth. “Professor Byleth and his father helped us, to be sure. We were very fortunate.”

“Oh, so that’s why he’s teaching here now! I was kinda wondering where he came from, since that other Mo… Ma… Mallow guy was supposed to be the third professor.” Raphael looks between the two of them. “So, he saved you guys? That’s pretty cool!”

Esther can feel Byleth’s gaze. Not the coward, she flashes him a smile, then focuses back on her food.

“It wasn’t just the professor and his father.” Edelgard’s eyes land on Esther. “Esther also played a fairly substantial role in us being able to return that day. It was quite incredible.”

Esther injects more force into her smile. “It wasn’t anything special. Anyway, how are the three of you adjusting to the monastery?”

Despite the clumsy transition, no one says anything. Probably due in part to Raphael jumping to reply, eager and reliable as always.

The conversation continues on from there, time passing with ease. Esther, Raphael, and Byleth go back to the counter for more food. A couple times. By the end of it, they each have empty plates stacked to the side.

Edelgard stares at the three of them with an expression that looks like pain. “I’m… appalled. Or impressed. I honestly cannot tell, right now.”

Esther smiles. “No one can operate well while hungry.”

Byleth and Raphael both give grave nods in agreement.

They split up after that, each of them having various tasks that need to be accomplished for the day. Esther herself ends up with chores from both Hanneman and Manuela that sees her absent from her room until much later into the night. It’s all in preparation for class the next day, so she can’t fault them too much.

She crosses paths with Cyril a couple times because of it, the two of them exchanging quiet nods or waves. She stares after him in thought each time.

Early the next morning sees Esther standing in front of the full class of the Black Eagles.

She sketches a quick bow and smiles, “I will be learning with you in the coming year, but I’m also Professor Manuela’s assistant. Please don’t hesitate to come find me if you need help.”

The class acknowledges the statement through nods, agreeing sounds, or blank faces. Not being a morning person herself, she can’t find it in herself to blame them.

Esther waves when she sees Dorothea, eyes sparkling. Petra watches her with a curious expression.

As it’s the first official day, the class is spent as an introduction to the year and what to expect. It isn’t until after lunch that Manuela begins actual lecture, and it’s all mostly theory. Just before she excuses them for the day, she reminds them of the end of the month event.

“As you know, there will be a mock battle held in a few days.” Manuela taps her pointer on her palm. “This will be an assessment to see just where the students are, so the stakes are not very high, but it is still to be taken seriously! I will be expecting much from you all this year.”

She dismisses the class shortly thereafter. Esther expects to end up speaking with Dorothea and Petra, maybe Edelgard as she’s packing up her materials.

She doesn’t expect the whole class to gather at her seat.

“So, you’re the Esther that helped the leaders at the excursion?” Caspar gives her a once-over. “You don’t look very strong, but I guess that doesn’t mean much. In case you forgot, I’m Caspar!”

Linhardt’s introduction is a punctuated yawn.

“I am Petra Macneary. It is nice to be formally making your acquaintance.” The Brigid princess nods. “I only saw it briefly, but your ability during the excursion was impressive. I hope to get along well.”

“So you are Esther von Nuvelle? I am Ferdinand of the noble House Aegir, a long line of Prime Ministers who have dutifully served under the Emperors of the Empire. I have heard from many how you managed to help repel the bandits at this last excursion, but I agree with Caspar that I would like to see your abilities for myself…”

Esther zones out.

Following Ferdinand’s impromptu speech is Hubert, who steps forward and bows. “So you are the one that helped Lady Edelgard. As her most humble servant, I would like to extend my thanks for your aid.”

“... Oh. It wasn’t any trouble, really,” Esther says. Hubert is overwhelming as well, but in a manner different from Ferdinand. “Like I told Edelgard, I’m pretty sure they had it handled. She would have been fine.”

He lifts his head, his gaze cutting. Esther smiles back at him placidly, wondering if his default expression is “I’m plotting your murder” the same way Esther’s is “I’m smiling for no reason.”

His lip quirks up in what might be a smile. “You jest. While Lady Edelgard is certainly capable, a few students would not find it easy to guard against so many foes at once.”

_ … Right. They were involved in that, _ Esther suddenly recalls. She continues smiling.

“I sure hope you remember who I am! We’ve only spent nearly everyday together since we met.” Dorothea sits next to her with ease, looping her arm through Esther’s. She lowers her voice in mock secrecy, “Hubert and Ferdinand are a bit much, huh?”

Hubert lets out a low chuckle. Ferdinand, on the other hand, frowns.

“What do you mean by that? I don’t believe I have done anything to warrant that sort of c—“

Edelgard sits on Esther’s other side, expression calm. She looks, for all intents and purposes, as though she’s about to have tea.

“Anyway!” Caspar bursts out, “I wanted to ask, how strong are you? I know you’re supposed to be pretty strong but I wanna see it for myself!” He leans over her desk. “What weapon do you use? Sword? Axe? Spear? Your fists?”

“She threw her sword at the bandit leader,” Edelgard mentions.

“She also carries around a dagger or two with her at all times.” Dorothea nudges Esther, who obligingly pulls out the one holstered at her hip. “See? Always prepared.”

Ferdinand and Caspar somehow start talking about the effectiveness of certain weapons, the former arguing for what suits nobles best, the latter not having any of it.

“What the hell are you talking about? As long as you’re stronger than your enemy, that doesn’t matter.” He lifts his hands, “It’s why I use my fists. While you’re busy wondering what’s more fitting for a noble or whatever, my fists will already be buried in your face.”

Esther has to stifle a snort at that one.

More conversations pop up, disjointed, lively, and too much to keep track of. Esther looks around. “Did Bernadetta already leave?”

“I believe she was leaving at the class’ conclusion,” Petra mentions. “She seems very shy.”

“Wait what? Really?” Dorothea pouts. “That girl is surprisingly slippery. I wanted to talk to her a bit, too, but she’s probably back in her room...”

Esther turns to her. “Are you friends?”

“No, but I’d like to be. She seems like a nice girl, just a bit shy.”

She makes a note to check in on her when she gets the chance.

The other students start leaving the classroom, citing chores or training or studying. Edelgard turns to Esther. “What were your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I was thinking of taking it easy, today. I’m a little tired.” As Esther thinks about it, she feels her eyelids grow heavier. “A nap would be nice.”

“Now _ that _ sounds like a fantastic idea,” Linhardt chimes in.

Dorothea turns to him with a skeptical look. “Weren’t you napping this whole time?”

“Of course not, you all were far too loud for any reasonable person to get rest.” He stands with a yawn, not bothering to stifle it. “Anyway, as exciting as this has been, I’m off to go do something more important.”

“Rest_ is _ important,” Esther tries.

“Oh no, I wasn’t going to nap. Not yet. But, just to let you know, the tall oak by the knight’s hall has a comfortable patch of grass that makes for a pleasant napping spot.”

She blinks. “Oh… thanks.”

He trudges away, lazily waving a hand in goodbye. She watches him go.

“Huh… Sure is an odd duck, that one.”

Esther turns to Dorothea. “I think everyone I’ve met here has an odd quirk, or several.”

“That is true. I’ve met a wide variety of personalities, even in the short time I’ve been here.”

“You aren’t an easily overlooked personality yourself, Edie.”

The three of them continue chatting amiably, eventually moving to the dining hall. Esther moves to split off when they reach the doors.

“You really should eat something,” Edelgard suggests, frowning in what might be concern.

“I’ll be fine,” Esther replies, the last word cut off by a yawn she manages to stifle. She had what amounted to two full meals before class that day, is what she doesn’t mention.

She doesn’t make it to her dorm room. She finds the tree Linhardt mentions and settles on top of the grass, content.

* * *

The day before the mock battle sees Esther at the training grounds with Felix.

She tries to tell him to take the day off. “I wouldn’t want to waste your time. You’ll probably be chosen to fight tomorrow at the mock battle, so you should prepare.”

His response is to narrow his eyes. “Hurry up and pick up your sword.”

She doesn’t bother protesting further than that.

Esther notices he’s somewhat more quiet than usual, but she attributes it to him having an off day, maybe linked to tomorrow’s battle. She doesn’t understand what goes through his mind. Even still, she trusts him, especially in matters involving swordsmanship, so she focuses on her training as he watches her for error.

She leaps forward, a downwards strike of her wooden sword accompanied by an even distribution of her weight. The metal armor rattles loudly at the blow, a noticeable scuff present where the blow landed, but still intact. All of her focus is on the training dummy she’s trying to decimate.

She still can’t replicate the technique she used during the excursion. She can only assume that it involved her magic—that sensation had _ felt _like using her magic, or was at least similar, and she knows that she isn’t able to deal such extensive damage with her strength alone. The only answer that makes sense is that she had used her magic to strengthen her attacks, somehow.

The thing is, based on what she’s read… That’s not possible.

Whether it be what she studied before coming to Garreg Mach, or what she’s looked into since the excursion, it doesn’t seem possible to strengthen one’s own physical capabilities with magic. At least, not in the sense of improving the potency of an attack, and not to the caster.

But she clearly did _ something, _ and that’s what she wants to replicate, so she can train this new ability. She just can’t seem to repeat the process.

She’s only had a couple days since the excursion to look into it, so there’s a high chance she just hasn’t found the information she’s looking for. For now, it’s a matter of either finding said information in books, or stumbling upon her answer through trial and error in training.

Esther pulls back. She settles into the right stance and strikes towards her target.

“How did you know Dorothea was an orphan?”

Her attention strays, and she lands a glancing blow on the training dummy. Felix clicks his tongue.

“I hear she buttered up some noble and he enrolled her in the academy…”

“Does someone like that even belong here?”

Her hands drop. “What the fuck?”

The words are whispered as she turns around. She distantly notes the quiet noise that maybe originates from Felix.

“Considering how hard other people have to work to even try, I feel like that isn’t fair.”

“You’re right it isn’t. Isn’t exactly honorable either, considering…”

She might have forgotten. Of course there are small things, minor, inconsequential things like this. It doesn’t start with war and death. They aren’t _ at war, _ right now.

In a way, it’s a privilege of peace to focus on ‘things like this’.

“Excuse me.”

The two soldiers turn to her, expressions questioning.

“Please take back your words.”

It’s not even disgust or ill-intention that shows on their faces, only honest confusion. “Huh?”

“About Dorothea. Please take back your words.”

“Ah… Are you a friend of hers?” The soldier on the left frowns, his tone softening. Sympathy, maybe. “I don’t know who you are, but you might not want to hang out with her. She’s definitely aiming for money, so if you’re a noble, you—“

“You’re soldiers. You’re aiming to be part of the Knights of Seiros, representatives and protectors of the church, and you’re talking like this. About a student.”

The other soldier steps forward. “Look, we haven’t said anything that isn’t true. Who are you, anyway?”

“Regardless of her ‘aims’, she’s been accepted. Or do you not trust the vetting process? Are you questioning Seteth?” Esther smiles. “I’m no one you need to know, but I help Seteth quite often. Please correct your behavior so this incident doesn’t have to pass his ears.”

As if she isn’t going to tell him anyway. And Alois. She doesn’t know if they’ll actually do something about it, but she can try. Alois, at the very least, will leap to Dorothea’s defense. She’s sure.

Thinking about it, there are other instances like this, aren’t there? Small issues here, barely concealed prejudices there. Preconceived beliefs between and about the three nations of Fodlan. Opinions forming walls against those originating from beyond the continent.

… She’s disproportionately angry, considering this is an isolated event with little to no bearing on the future. This issue can’t be compared to the dividing factors the house leaders fight against. But Dorothea is her friend, and she’s not happy hearing this about her friend.

The soldiers exchange a look. One just shakes his head as he turns to leave, the other rolling his eyes before joining his friend. He mutters something Esther doesn’t care to hear. She watches them go with a smile.

She walks back to Felix, expression a tinge apologetic. “I’d like to conclude practice, today. I need to go talk to Seteth.” She sketches an informal bow. “Thanks for checking my sword forms, as usual. Good luck with the battle t—“

“Which is the real you?”

Esther blinks. “What?”

“Do you feel anything at all, while killing?”

The question has her straighten instinctively, something in her going tense. “... What brought this on?”

He narrows his eyes. “Just answer the question.”

Somehow, his usual rude demeanor makes her relax, if only slightly. Esther turns, affecting a look of contemplation to buy her time to do just that.

She doesn’t know why he’s asking. As usual, she doesn’t understand what goes on in his mind—he seems tetchy over the smallest things, sometimes, and at others just seems annoyed by the world and people at large. It’s what makes her want to poke fun at him.

Still, he isn’t unreasonable, so for him to ask her this must have had some substantial thought put behind it. Something happened. But _ what _ is the questi—

—The excursion. She wasn’t paying attention to the exact placements of her friends, beyond confirming they were alive. But she knows Felix was watching the battlefield.

That means he saw her kill.

_ … Oh. _

Esther briefly closes her eyes, and breathes. She turns to Felix. “I do.”

“Really?”

His expression can only be described as doubtful. Esther shoots him an equally disbelieving look. “What? You think I feel nothing?”

She doesn’t blame him. Even as she says the words, they don’t feel quite right.

He stares at her for a few moments, assessing. “Then what do you feel?”

“Fear, mostly.” That, at least, is resoundingly true. “During the excursion, I was terrified that the others would die. But I was also angry, for the same reasons.”

She’d had a responsibility to help keep the students safe. It became less “help keep safe” and more “keep safe” when she realized she was the only faculty member present, pseudo or otherwise. She hadn’t thought the responsibility would become solely her own, and had she not moved before realizing this, had she allowed herself to truly think about it, she’s certain she would have been the cause of deaths that weren’t just bandits.

It seems like a silly thing to worry about. _ It’s not like I’m trying to influence the future of an entire continent and surrounding nations, or anything. _

Felix’s response is a quiet scoff. “Fear.”

“If the next words out of your mouth are going to be about fear being ‘weak’ or ‘stupid,’ I don’t want to hear it.”

He shakes his head. “They weren’t.”

Felix departs shortly thereafter, leaving Esther to clean up the grounds, a weight settling in her chest.

She knows that was a test. In hindsight, she realizes the concern he seemed to have for her wasn’t worry for _ her, _ specifically, but a worry about her actions. Her beliefs.

She doesn’t know what, exactly, he saw when he looked at her. She doesn’t know what he thinks about her. Maybe he was comparing her to a beast, the same way he treats Dimitri. Regardless, he was judging her to see if she was a killer.

If she’s being honest with herself, she can’t say she isn’t. Plain and simple, she is someone who kills. The fact the label doesn’t bother her overmuch says more than any “honest” admission ever could.

Esther has come to enjoy her time at Garreg Mach. She’s made friends. At least, she counts several people around her to be her friends, Felix included, so it… hurts. His judgment hurts, a little, but she isn’t surprised.

The situation isn’t too different from the one with Abelia and Arne: lines are drawn that she can’t pass, at least not now, and not as she is. Her foremost goal is to make sure she keeps them alive, in a world with some semblance of peace, without the need for the sacrifices she knows can be made. Even if her view of “friendship” might not be entirely reciprocated in some cases, she still cares about them. She still views _ them _ as her friends, even if the same isn’t said of the reverse.

Which is why, after she finishes cleaning up the grounds, she heads straight to Seteth’s office to deliver a very thorough complaint about the soldiers.

Small, inconsequential, whatever—if she only worried about the “greater good” at all times, she would have to be either magnanimous or unfeeling. She isn’t the former, and she doesn’t want to be the latter.

By the time she leaves Seteth’s office, he’s frowning quite deeply, his pen marking punctuated lines on paper. And Esther’s smile is very much genuine.

* * *

The morning of the mock battle sees most of the students at the training grounds, finishing last minute preparations for the event.

Esther stands with Manuela and Edelgard, discussing the plan for the day. “I’m not fighting today?”

“Yes, because you aren’t a student… at least, not in the sense that the others are participating for. I already know your capabilities, after all.” Manuela smirks. “Rather, you will be graded on your measure of the others. Pay attention to how your fellow students fair in the battle, because you will be the one evaluating them.”

Esther blinks.

“I’d say, ‘don’t grade me too harshly,’ but by all means, please do.” Edelgard tosses her hair over her shoulder, smiling. “I have faith that you will help me improve on my weaknesses.”

Esther blinks. Again.

_ … I feel like I missed something. _

Or a few somethings, maybe.

She doesn’t get the chance to respond to either of them, because Dimitri and Byleth walk up to them before she can formulate a reply.

Manuela turns a grin at the new additions. “Ah, Dimitri, and Professor Byleth. Ready to taste defeat today?”

“I’m afraid it will not be so simple, as we have come duly prepared for today’s match.” Dimitri nods to Esther. “I didn’t have the chance to introduce myself, before. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. I wanted to thank you for your help during the excursion.”

Esther bows her head. “It was no problem, your highness. I’m Esther von Nuvelle, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Please, no need for the title, call me Dimitri.”

_ This seems familiar. _ “Very well, Dimitri.”

“While it’s all well and good to have pleasant introductions, perhaps you should save it for later,” Edelgard says. “Professor, though you may be strong, I hope you know that the Black Eagles will not be so easily defeated. Victory will be ours at the day’s conclusion.”

Dimitri steps forward. “A fair statement, though perhaps you should save the idle boasts. In turn, I hope you know that the Blue Lions are no trifle, either. Victory will not be handed readily to you.”

“I suppose we’ll see whether they are idle boasts as you claim, or simply a statement of what is to come.”

“I suppose we shall.”

Esther exchanges a look with Byleth. His gaze almost looks inquiring. In response, she gives a small shrug.

“Wow, I guess I didn’t get the memo for _ this _ strategy meeting.”

They turn to Claude as he walks up to the group. “Gee, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was being excluded. Not very sporting of you. But, no, I understand—these kinds of underhanded tactics are necessary to defeat a stronger opponent.”

Dimitri smiles. “Nice try, Claude, but I do not intend to let slip our strategies. I know better than to underestimate my opponents of today’s battle.”

“I spare no effort in pursuit of victory, but I know very well your aptitude with those underhanded tactics you speak of, Claude.” Edelgard places a hand on her hip. “Today is a match of skill, and it will be won by the Black Eagles. _ Without _ foul play.”

Claude rears back, hand over his heart as though struck. “My, what cutting words! I wouldn’t dream of approaching the battle today with any other mindset than fair and square.”

Dimitri shakes his head. “Hearing the words ‘fair and square’ from Claude can only be an ill omen.”

The battle hasn’t even begun, yet Esther feels like she’s already watching a competition.

“An ill omen for the Blue Lions, then, because the Black Eagles will see no such downfall.”

“You are very confident. I advise you to perhaps rethink that mindset of yours—it will be that much more disappointing for you when the Blue Lions emerge victorious.”

“Please, do continue your heated arguments… It’ll make it that much easier for the Golden Deer to sweep up a win.”

“Oh my.” Manuela sighs dramatically, resting her cheek on a hand with a grin. “The students, engaging in a bit of pre-battle banter. How adorable.”

The three house leaders turn to her with varying expressions. Esther chokes on a laugh.

It’s only for a moment, but briefly, all eyes turn to Esther.

Her smile stiffens. _ Ah. _

Hanneman enters at just the right time, telling them that they must leave for the faculty strategy meeting. The teachers and Esther depart, and she nods to the house leaders in goodbye—Edelgard nodding in turn, Dimitri verbalizing a goodbye, and Claude giving a casual salute.

She feels herself relax when they walk out of the training grounds. She doesn’t know if it’s her knowledge of the future speaking, or genuinely something about their presences that feels almost overwhelming. Esther sighs, but her smile is honest. _ It’s definitely… something… to be around the three of them at once. _

They arrive at the field of battle half past noon. Esther observes from the same vantage point as the other spectators, not too far off from where Seteth and Rhea stand.

Her gaze meets Rhea’s. She lets her eyes continue their path as she looks over the scene, pretending she didn’t notice.

She can’t tell if the archbishop is staring at or past her. It could be coincidence. Esther, too, sometimes stares at things without actually seeing them, which must be as unnerving as this situation feels.

She stares out in the distance as she waits. _ Why does it feel like certain people are more aware of me, lately? I haven’t really done anything to warrant it. _

Helping the house leaders during the excursion was one thing. She helped at the end, but the only witnesses were the leaders, Byleth, and Jeralt—the rest of the students having been split off—so there’s no reason for Rhea to notice her. The attention that Byleth garners is based on a number of factors, and of those, Esther herself can only speak of one.

She did her best to protect the students, which ended with a positive result, but none of that accounts for feeling like she’s suddenly under the microscope by multiple important figures. It feels less like being measured for these achievements and more like having her overall worth weighed by those in power.

It makes her a little nervous, especially considering what she knows.

Rhea eventually turns her gaze to the field. Seteth announces the battle, and the horn blares out across the area.

Overall, the mock battle ends up being a little… Underwhelming.

Esther attributes it to not actually being part of it, only experiencing the battle as a spectator. It’s a very different feeling—she’s much more removed from the scene, both literally and figuratively. It allows her to make clearer judgments about the general state of the opposing sides across the battlefield.

Certainly, she doesn’t feel much emotion while watching. More like a referee looking for technicalities to praise or critique. She ends up exchanging words with Seteth, though they both keep their eyes trained on the field throughout the battle.

Unsurprisingly, it’s the Blue Lions under Byleth’s instruction that wins.

Esther can’t hear specific conversation from the distance she stands, but she can tell that the students and teachers from the houses exchange congratulatory words. Some from the Black Eagles and Golden Deer houses look a little disheartened, but that’s to be expected.

They return to the monastery shortly after the battle. The Black Eagles convene in the reception hall as the sun is setting, just before the evening dinner.

Manuela clears her throat.

“You all did very well, considering the demands on you during this battle. As a unit, you all will need to grow more familiar with each other’s battle styles and the way to best utilize your abilities in conjunction with your allies. But no need to worry—that is something you will learn with time.” Manuela taps her palm with her pointer. “I will speak to each of you individually in the coming days regarding specialties, strengths, and weaknesses.”

The students give varying forms of acknowledgement. Manuela turns to Esther.

“Now, Esther will give you her own evaluations of the battle. If you would?”

Esther still can’t really understand Manuela’s intent, with this assignment. For all intents and purposes, Esther shouldn’t know anything necessary to properly evaluate the others. If it weren’t for her previous knowledge, she wouldn’t. She doesn’t understand how Manuela could expect this of her.

_ … Actually, that’s not quite right. _

If they could hire a mercenary, who didn’t even know the continent’s foremost religion, to teach the future leaders of said continent, then her situation pales in comparison. Byleth’s circumstances are more complicated, of course, but no one besides Rhea knows, and yet he’s still accepted easily. Esther’s own situation shouldn’t be much worse.

Besides, even setting aside her convenient knowledge, she did see a handful of things that stood out to her.

Esther considers her words, feeling somewhat nervous. She wouldn’t say she’s afraid of public speaking, but it _ is _ a little embarrassing—the fact the Blue Lions and Golden Deer are also having their evaluation in the reception hall doesn’t help.

She clears her throat.

“I suppose I’ll go down the list, then.” She turns to Ferdinand first. “Ferdinand, you displayed your spearmanship in the battle today, and it was clear to me you hold a high level of skill. However, some of your movements seemed more extraneous than necessary, and I noticed that you struggled traversing the field after or away from your opponents several times—if you aren’t already considering it, you may want to look into cavalry training.”

He frowns, considering, but nods.

“Dorothea, I noticed your use of magic. I wouldn’t recommend setting fellow students on fire, in the future, but I thought it was an impressive application of the fire spell. Moreover, your swordplay is very good. Though you may be a little lacking in power, your form is perfect.”

Dorothea beams. “I found Felix, like you suggested.” She narrows her eyes, contemplative. “He’s mean, but he definitely knows swords.”

Esther smiles, turning to Caspar. “Caspar, I noticed that you switched between your axe and fists during the battle. Do you hope to train in both rather than specialize in one?”

“... I dunno? Both come kinda naturally, for me.” He shrugs. “During the battle, I just did whatever felt best.”

“So it’s situational. Then, I think it would be fine for you to work on both for the sake of battle flexibility. It’s true that mastering more forms of combat will give you more options when in the midst of battle.” Esther pauses. “It will require much more work, however, so if you feel like you’re falling behind, you should switch your focus to one.”

He gives a thumbs up. “Sounds good to me. That won’t be a problem though—I’m gonna get lots stronger!”

Esther’s nods. She turns to Linhardt.

“Linhardt. I don’t have much to say about your battle performance, nothing more than to continue to hone your magical ability. There, I’d say you’re set quite comfortably above average. As for cooperation and general mindset, it would benefit everyone if you watched the status of your allies more often.” She pauses. “Also, try not to take an impromptu break in the middle of the battlefield, if it’s not necessary.”

He sighs. “But it _ was _ n—“

He’s interrupted by an elbow to the side and a slap on the back, the former from Dorothea, the latter from Caspar.

“C’mon, Linhardt! You take breaks all the time, at least pay attention during training and battles. In fact, I’ll even train with you!”

Linhardt mumbles something unhappily.

“Agreed. I could use some help with magic, and you could use some help with motivation. We could help each other out.” Dorothea winks at Esther.

Esther smiles in thanks, then moves on.

“Edelgard.” Esther considers her words. “You’re quick, and your attacks are efficient but powerful. I would continue to hone your strengths. You may want to consider wearing heavier armor in the future, which will of course require even greater speed as well as stamina.”

“Heavier armor…” Edelgard frowns. “While I understand the merit, I don’t see why I cannot simply improve my defense in other ways. I am not weak to pain, and I do not struggle with blocking maneuvers.”

“You could be unstoppable in your current areas, certainly, but no one is impervious to a sword, nor is anyone omnipotent.” Esther smiles at her. “You still won’t be impervious, but it could add yet another level of protection for when you are not able to consciously block an incoming blow.”

Edelgard spends a few moments considering her words. She nods. “I understand.”

Esther turns to Petra. “Petra. Are you planning to focus on sword mastery?”

“That is correct.”

“You style is quite a bit different from what I see in Fodlan, and you know how to use it to your best advantage. Even still, I’d suggest you familiarize yourself with other styles—not necessarily to put into practice, but for the sake of countering them. Added with your agility and dexterity, it can make you unmatched at the sword.”

“I wonder who is stronger, Petra or Felix…” Dorothea taps her chin, contemplative. “Maybe you two can train together? He trained specifically in the Fraldarius style, but he’s familiar with a handful of others from across Fodlan. I don’t think he’s as fast as you, but he’s pretty strong, so I think the two of you can benefit from it.”

“I would be appreciating that greatly.” Petra turns to Esther. “Thank you for your input.”

“I’m happy to help.” Esther nods, moving on.

“Bernadetta. Your marksmanship is good, and you managed to hit most of your targets even from a variety of different positions on the field. Your adaptability was strong, and in the two instances where it seemed like you were about to be cornered by the other side, you displayed your capability of escaping close-combat situations.”

Her shoulders hitch up to her ears. “... What about criticisms?”

“I didn’t see much to critique, since your technique and evasive maneuvers were impressive. I’m hard pressed to say that anything needs great improvement. Work on your strengths to further hone them.” Esther tilts her head. “Maybe, communicate with your allies more. You had a good grasp of the situation, certainly, but it will help your allies if they know your position and planning, as well.”

She lets out a muffled sound, her shoulders even higher as she tries to disappear into the bench. She nods.

“Hubert. You were on reserve today, but from what I saw, you are adept at directing your allies and planning for counter strategies. I look forward to seeing how you fair in the coming year.”

He answers with a tilted smile and a nod.

She turns to the group at large, “And that’s everything. Overall, everyone did very well, especially considering this was the first battle of the year. Depending on your area of study, you should try to find a faculty member or a knight who you can train with—and of course, if you need help, I’ll do what I can.”

Esther finishes her evaluation with a smile.

She had seen a few things that stood out to her, true. But those had only been enough for a handful of perfunctory sentences at most—the majority of her words are still based on what she knows their future focuses will be.

“A very thorough evaluation of our class, considering you are not entirely familiar with our fighting styles,” Edelgard comments with a smile. “We will all take your words to heart as we work to improve. However, does this mean we will be the ones evaluating you, at some point in the future?”

Esther’s smile twitches. “... If that’s the case, please be kind.”

“What? Of course not! In order to improve, we have to say it like it is.”

“Indeed. But not to worry, I, Ferdinand von Aegir, will be sure to provide whatever aid I can to help you improve your own deficiencies! It is the least I can do in turn.”

“You have been training in the sword? Since that is an area I am confident in, if you would like, I can be helping you improve as well. It could be my thanks for your guidance.”

Though her smile remains in place, Esther sheds a silent tear. _ I see that whatever respect they may have for me now won’t last much longer. _

As the group starts to disperse, Esther turns to Manuela. She was quiet throughout the entire evaluation, and she look as though she’s contemplating something deeply. “Was that enough?”

Manuela blinks, her hand going to her hip. “... Actually, it was more than enough. I knew you spent your free time with your little friends, but did you familiarize yourself with some of the Black Eagles before today?”

“Not really,” Esther answers. “I’ve known Dorothea pretty much since the students started moving in, and I met Edelgard and Petra during the excursion.”

“Is that so…” Manuela frowns. “Well, I hadn’t thought you would be able to read so deeply into their individual abilities from a single battle. I’d expected that you would give more of an overview of their teamwork, which is why I had you speak about your observations to the group rather than individually.”

_ Oh. _ Esther nods. _ That makes a great deal more sense, actually. _

“In fact, you covered most of what I myself was thinking when I observed them from the battlefield. Other than a few other comments here and there, I won’t have to spend so much time with individual course plans.” Manuela winks. “So, thank you for that.”

It’s definitely more complicated than that. Esther only gave them brief evaluations that skim the surface of individual potentials, and in order to ensure they get the proper help they need, Manuela will need to observe their progress and make changes to the plan as they progress through the year.

Regardless, Esther smiles, nodding. “I’m glad to help where I can.”

“Oh, you always know _ exactly _ what to say.” Manuela claps her hands, a look in her eyes that should be disconcerting. “Since you’re so eager to help out, would you be a dear…”

Because she’s more or less gotten used to life at the monastery, and has also gotten used to life as Manuela’s student-slash-errand-runner, Esther isn’t surprised when Manuela asks her to go into the town for her favorite spirits.

She notices that Manuela gives her a bit more gold than strictly necessary, and she decides to get them both a snack to share. Her smile is small, but warmed.

Life continues as usual.

* * *

“Cast again. Seven, cavalry-counter.”

Seven burning spheres flare into existence, each quickly growing in size.

A frown. “Hold them in place.”

Esther stops their swaying. It’s significantly more difficult for her to do so—her fires, no matter the shape they take, naturally want to move. It takes a minute, but she breathes easy when the fireballs stabilize, floating in a stasis-like state.

They kind of remind her of stars. Not of the cartoon-like, five-pointed variety, but the kinds of image that really makes one go "wow, that's a burning ball of gas and matter."

"Fireball" indeed.

Hanneman frowns down into his booklet, pen tapping his chin. “Your casting speed increased, however slight. Were there any abnormalities this time?”

“No,” Esther answers. “My focus wavered for a second, but that was because I was distracted.”

“Hm. You still struggle with casting larger scale spells… How confident are you in doubling the size and number?”

She glances his way. “Confident.”

“I see…” Hanneman nods a few times, then pauses. “Ah, wait. Without imminent property damage?”

“Reasonably lacking confidence.”

He continues asking questions, each one more distracted and less coherent than the last. His pen moves smoothly across the pages of his booklet.

Esther can’t help but notice that he hasn’t lifted his eyes from his notes for a while.

She wonders if he’s actually supervising her, as he’s supposed to, or still focused on his crest research. The booklet he’s holding has a different colored leather than the one she usually sees, but that doesn’t count for much, considering how extensive his library of research and notes is.

He had glanced to her casting a couple of times at the start of the day’s session, but it seemed more performative than analytical.

She stares at him. When she sees no sign of him noticing, she turns to test her control on the flames, and slowly begins to move them.

Though her fires have a tendency towards movement, they’re easier to control once she’s gotten them into a state of stillness. It’s going back and forth between movement and stillness that gives a challenge, like trying to immediately stop a moving cart, which naturally wants to continue forward due to momentum. In the reverse, it takes an exertion of force for a stationary object to regain momentum.

It’s not long before the seven spheres are moving in a controlled circle, slowly orbiting around each other.

Hanneman’s pen continues across his notebook.

Esther tries condensing and expanding her magic. The orbs of fire follow the flow of her magic, growing and shrinking as directed.

This, too, is an exercise of control. Despite the show, it’s not as difficult as the previous exercise—it’s more a matter of her controlling the output of her magic, and so doesn’t need as fine-tuned control. Trying to change the size of each fireball individually would be a different matter.

She turns to look at Hanneman, who is still looking down at his book.

After a prolonged minute, he glances up.

Their eyes meet. His gaze moves to the fires, expression unreadable, before darting back to his notebook.

Esther turns back to her fires, continuing to exercise her control. She’s improved far beyond the ability she started off with, which is encouraging. She waves a hand and the fireballs begin to move up and down in a dance.

She doesn’t really know why her manifestation of the basic fire spell is naturally more of a fire _ ball_ than usual, but it’s pretty effective, and seems to last longer with less drain than the usual manifestation.

The dance-like motions make the fireballs seem happy. As if they’re glowing fire spirits with life of their own. _ Kinda cute. _

Hanneman clears his throat. “That’s right. Esther, I probably won’t have as much time to supervise you, now that the school year has begun.”

“If it’s not an issue with you, I can just join the Golden Deer when they’re training.”

“Ah… That’s not a bad idea. The houses alternate usage of the training facilities, after all…” He nods. “I will let you know what days we are scheduled, then, and you can join us.”

“All right.” Esther cuts off her magic, the fires snuffing out. “So, what’s next?”

Hanneman tucks his notebook into his coat. “Oh, no, that’s it for today. I’d like you to retrieve a couple tomes from the library for me.”

“What?” Esther blinks. “What about my training? I wanted to test a few new applications of my magic, and I was going to run them by you, first.”

“Er, not today. I have a couple things I need to complete before the end of the day.”

She eyes him. “... You were doing an awful lot of writing while I was doing spell drills.”

It’s his turn to blink. “Yes?”

“Was it your crest research?”

The way he splutters is almost comical. “W-what!? Of course not! I promised to supervise your training and help you improve, and that is what I will do! I will not slack on any of my responsibilities.”

She smiles.

“Anyway, as I said, this is all for today. Consider it a break, after all the progress you’ve made. Ah yes, and of course, the tomes I needed…”

He quickly ushers her out of the grounds, vaguely describing the books he wants. He says he will be waiting in his office and heads off.

Esther heads to the library. She’s … a _ little _ … annoyed, but she supposes her new ideas for her magic aren’t strictly necessary, more out of curiosity. They aren’t immediately applicable to battle situations, and she’s already reached a proficiency with her magic that battle-readiness isn’t an issue anymore. And it isn’t a lie that he’s busier, with the beginning of the school year and all.

But he’s always making her run errands for him. To get _ books. _

(Or research papers and articles, but they’re all archived in the same area.)

And considering how he described the books he asked her to retrieve, she doubts this has much to do with her or her magic.

Esther enters the library, only noticing the frown on her face when she passes a knight. She nods with a perfunctory smile when he greets her.

Hanneman didn’t seem like he was lying when he claimed he paid attention, but she isn’t sure she believes him. For someone of his skill, splitting his attention between a novice mage and his crest research without either suffering isn’t a difficult feat. Sure, certain aspects of Esther’s magic are interesting_, _ but not as much as questionable. And she hasn’t told him about the more... _intriguing_ aspects of her ability.

Other than crests, Esther is pretty sure he hasn’t researched anything longer than a few hours in one sitting. He’s constantly neck-deep in his crest research.

_ … I don’t believe him, _ she thinks, staring blankly at the books lined neatly on high-rising shelves. _ I don’t mind it so much, but he sent me to get more books for his crest research when I could be training instead. Or resting. _

She wouldn’t burn his notebook, of course, that’s a bit extreme. But maybe she’d add a pepper to his coffee, or slip itching powder into his coat. Thanks to Abelia, she knows a particularly nasty concoction that would have him itching for weeks. She could even—not that she’d _ actually _ go through with the threat—hide all his crest research away and claim that it met an unfortunate fiery acc—

She feels an unexplained jolt run up her spine.

Her eyes go wide as she snaps back to reality, wondering what alerted her. Realization comes a moment too late when she recognizes the presence walking towards her. 

“Ah, Esther. I’ve seen you in passing, but I believe this is the first time we have met.”

_ Shit. _

Her heart hammers in her chest. The only indication to her turmoil is the slight trembling of her hand—she clenches it into a fist, hiding it with the positioning of her body.

She turns to him with a smile. “This is indeed the first time we’ve met, but I, too, have seen you around the monastery. Was there something you needed me for, Tomas?”

He smiles gently in turn, the creases around his eyes deepening. “Ah, not at all. Rather, I was wondering what you were looking for.”

“Professor Hanneman asked me to retrieve a few tomes, but he couldn’t remember the titles. He only gave me descriptions of the contents.”

“I see.” He chuckles quietly, “What was it he said? Perhaps I can be of assistance—I am the librarian, after all.”

She recalls the words Hanneman spoke, and with a look of recognition, Tomas quickly finds the tomes and hands them to her. She thanks him with a low bow.

“I’m always happy to help, there’s no need for such gratitude.” He pauses, eyes going to the shelves. “I need to make a delivery myself, but while I am here, was there anything else you needed help locating?”

Esther shakes her head. “No, this was all. I think I’ll spend some time here, though—Professor Hanneman could stand to wait.”

Tomas smiles. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

A moment passes, the two of them smiling amicably to one another. He nods his head with a chuckle and turns to leave.

Once she knows his presence is far from the library, she sits heavily in a chair, her hands shaking around the bound books. It has little to do with fear.

Oh, she fears the possibilities, and she fears the futures she knows from that story. She also knows just how great a threat the Agarthans present, not only as a civilization completely unknown to all except a few, but also as a group with access to technology that could decimate countries.

But somehow, the anxiety and fear she feels—however present—is nothing in the face of her sudden _ fury. _

One moment she was lost in thought, and the other, she was suddenly overtaken by the emotion. It had surged with startling force, when she realized he was there.

And it urged her to reach out and kill him.

Esther worries about many things. She worries that she isn’t strong enough to face the coming trials, that she is only one person trying to handle too much at once, that she might unconsciously reveal what she knows through her actions.

She worries that she might garner the attention of individuals she cannot afford to alert. And yet, a part of her still tells her to run out that door and ensure the man known as “Tomas” never breathes again.

(Terror and anxiety and the feeling of walking a fine line at opposition with the fury and intense need to _ protect—) _

(But protect what?)

As usual, what she’s feeling is impossible to place, the reasons beyond her. She takes a breath.

_ I can’t idle anymore. _

Esther is leaving the reception hall when she recognizes another presence, clearly heading her way. Considering her last encounter, she finds herself genuinely happy about this one.

“Hey there. Esther, right?”

She turns, smiling. “Yes. Claude von Riegan, if I recall correctly—I believe I saw Raphael throw you across a barricade during the mock battle, at one point?”

He makes a face. “You were watching that? I’d be flattered, but that wasn’t exactly one of Golden Deer’s best moments.”

“Even if I wasn’t on the battlefield myself, it only makes sense to keep an eye on the movements of all relevant players.”

“A fair point. But anyway, that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.” He places a hand on his hip. “Specifically, the first time we met. I wanted to thank you for saving our behinds, actually—just haven’t really had the chance to, and when I did, the prince and princess pair were too much to ignore.”

“Too much to not fan the flames?”

He grins. “I see you’ve already heard about me.”

“Only good things, I swear.” Esther shakes her head. “But I’ll tell you the same I told them: I really didn’t do much. While I appreciate the gratitude, I’m pretty sure the situation was handled.”

“True, Teach seemed like he had a plan… But that aside, that’s not all I wanted to mention.” He gestures, “That move you pulled was pretty impressive.”

The conversation up until this point has been going smoothly. Esther pauses. “What move?”

“You know, the way you burst out of the trees, and threw your sword! Swords aren’t exactly the throwing type of weapons, especially not like _ that, _ but you still managed to hit him dead-on.” He mimes a stabbing motion at his arm, the same area her sword had impaled the bandit leader. “What exactly was the technique with that?”

Esther blinks, nonplussed. It’s not exactly the case that she can’t recall the incident. In fact, she can recall that day quite clearly—the longer she goes on, and the more battles she has, the more clarity she has of the events that occur during them.

So, she does in fact remember bursting through the trees, seeing the bandit leader, and hurling her sword at him.

As for knowing _ how _ she did that…

“... I don’t know,” she says. “I just reacted, when I saw what was going on.”

But even as she says it, she makes a connection to an ability she has yet to replicate in her training.

When she had backhanded that one bandit, only to be met with an especially messy result, and then when she tried to repeat the same thing but using her leg, sending the leader towards the other bandits.

She hadn’t linked the events, but he’s right: swords can’t be thrown like that. Not normally.

“Not willing to share your secrets, huh.”

Esther’s gaze snaps back to him. She hadn’t realized she glanced away.

Claude grins, “Well, it’s not like we don’t all have our fair share of them. But I must say—there are an awful lot swimming around the monastery.”

_ It’s not like that, _ she nearly says, but she checks the thought before it can be verbalized. His smile remains in place.

They exchange a few more perfunctory words before he bids farewell, once again thanking her for her aid during the excursion. She can’t find the words she wants to voice, only nodding. She watches him go with a distant look.

Esther doesn’t have any more time.

At the earliest stages, her plan had been to come to Garreg Mach, keep an eye on the progression of events, collect information, and figure out the safest—and most peaceful—option of survival. Since then, it’s evolved into a more comprehensive and involved idea of peace, with her hope set on building a future that does not reflect the tragedies of that story she knows.

At least, that’s what she would say if asked, and then she would hesitantly admit her discomfort over taking a detached approach when these people will be risking their lives in the future. She would tell herself that it was a slow realization, a gradual change, that cemented her resolve.

But the truth is that she, likely always, wanted to do something more. Not out of a selfless desire to save everyone, nor due to some ideal of peace, as she knows that pinning her hopes that high would be an exercise in futility, but rather…

It’s the same as before. She had already recognized that she had an inexplicable investment in the people here, and before, she hadn’t been able to understand it. She still doesn’t know its origin, it’s something more than someone should have for what was otherwise a fictional story, but now she _ understands. _

She has friends, now. People she wouldn’t want to live without, that she can’t bring herself to imagine facing on the battlefield. She never strayed from the idea of befriending them even despite knowing the divergent paths that were laid out before her.

(From the very beginning, she came to Garreg Mach for reasons other than as a vague means of survival.)

Esther makes a decision.

She stares in the direction Claude left, then turns on her heel, heading to the dorms.

Claude is her choice for a variety of reasons. The church, the kingdom, the empire, the alliance—of the four politically principal leaders at the monastery, he is her best choice to ally with right now.

She cannot ally with Edelgard because she needs more time to build a solid rapport. Edelgard is dangerous, and revealing any amount of what she knows to her, even if only a little, would incite suspicion. Esther can’t confidently say that the chances of her being silenced or conveniently misplaced are small.

Dimitri, with all the secrets and traumas he hides, would be another that she needs to build trust with before she can try to relay what she knows. Even if she succeeded, she is not arrogant enough to believe she can help him. She does not have the privilege of saying she is not a killer, if it comes to a battle of morality. She also isn’t inclined to throw the fate of the continent on the shoulders of someone already fighting his own mind.

Rhea… was never a real consideration in Esther’s mind, hence her avoidance. According to that story, her own issues make her unpredictable, and without a personal connection she is likely to dismiss outright what is said. Esther has no way of predicting what her reaction might be—she knows she has the propensity to completely lose herself in revenge for the sake of a perceived wrong, but even while calm, she’s blinded by a mix of prejudices at odds with self-doubt over her mother’s absence.

It’s all… kind of a mess. Esther can sympathize.

A prevailing issue with all three of them is stubbornness, which is why trust is necessary. None of them would be willing to change their ideals for someone they do not respect or trust, which is reasonable. And in order to gain said trust—in order to successfully ally with them—she needs time.

But Esther isn’t so confident that she thinks she can start making changes on her own, and the scale of change needed for the coming future _ also _ needs time. That means, she needs to start as early as possible.

Of course, this is all conjecture. She doesn’t know these people well, and her knowledge is only a surface-level understanding of what were once characters in a story. These are no longer characters, and this is no longer a story.

It’s still enough to know where her greatest chances lie.

Claude is the most likely to listen and actually consider everything she has to say. He is also the least likely to react in an extreme manner, whether that be completely dismissing all she says outright, or silencing her in a way deemed fit. Of the four, he is the one who thinks about a problem, considers it, and reconsiders it, looking at it from every angle possible.

Personal things, be they ideals or history or relationships, are not inseparable from his decisions. But he still finds a balance without losing sight of his goal, and without justifying his actions.

It’s ironic, because Esther would never say Claude is more trusting than the others. She would even argue that he is one of the least trusting, only adept at pretending to be. But, though he might not trust people, she knows he trusts _ information_.

And that’s what she has.

(In this choice, she wonders if it, too, was inevitable. She had tried to weigh the options, learn more about the leaders beyond her prior knowledge, and approach this decision with an unbiased mindset.

She thinks about what she told Mercedes and Ashe, a then-passing conversation without any weight. Perhaps she had already known her decision.)

As for the reason why she intends to tell someone, rather than covertly pull them over to her side without revealing what she knows…

She’s known for a while, since before coming to the monastery, that she can’t do this alone. She is only one person. She knows more than anyone should, but she doesn’t have the power to implement it in an effective way on her own, nor does she trust herself to make the best decision given a situation.

Esther knows that trying to change the future herself would either be ineffectual or disastrous.

She’s already tried to confide in someone—Abelia—but was unable to. She wonders if she might face the same problem as before. She wonders if she might tell him, anyway, because a _ feeling _ of dread is not enough to warrant her silence in the face of everything.

_ Regardless, this is my choice. _

She doesn’t want to make an enemy of any of them. She doesn’t want her future to reflect the futures as laid out in that story, where only one could emerge alive and victorious, the lives of the others paving the blood-stained path.

It’s idealistic. Short of the power of a god or a star, this sort of “fate” isn’t something a single person can change. Esther has inexplicable abilities and knowledge of what is to come, but she is still only one person. She is only “Esther.”

But there’s no point in giving up without even trying.

If there is even the slightest chance, she wants to see it with her own two eyes. That rose-colored future she can’t even envision. The idealistic “happy ending” that only exists in the fairy tales and fiction that this world is not.

_ This is my choice. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Short of the power of a god or a star” “She is only esther” 👀
> 
> would you believe me if i said the google doc for this fic is called “claude fic”?? it’s called that bc i made this with claude/esther in mind, maybe one-sided (on esther’s part), but idk… if i decide it as endgame then i’ll add a pairing tag, but for now the planning is just me having fun. I’m gonna keep writing and decide later. idk how to write romance my dudes i’m a closeted gay with no experience
> 
> anyway this is late bc i got a concussion during practice and apparently it’s better to not think too much while concussed??? LOL. unfortunately still had to go to school so. so much for that.


	7. Chapter 7

_ "Do you ever get a weird sense of… familiarity, with certain things?” _

_ “…?” _

_ “Like you’ve done it before, seen it all, but you can’t actually recall a memory for it.” _

_ An inquiring look. “Like deja vu?” _

_ “Day-what now?” _

_ “It’s nothing. But I think I know what you mean.” _

_ “... Huh. I mean, I asked, but I wasn’t actually expecting you to agree with me. Or say you understand.” _

_ “I do. Sometimes I find things that are recognizable to me in ways I can’t explain, and there’s no way for me to find out. Like echoes of someone, or something, I knew.” _

_ “Hm.” _

_ “I have a question for you, in response. Do you ever feel… stuck?” _

_ “I do, but I think it might be different from what you mean.” _

_ “Tell me.” _

_ “Okay okay, I’ll share first… The most common instances are when I’m presented with a problem, be it for school or some other thing, and I’m stymied. Like when I’m standing in line for lunch, but keep letting people in front of me because I’m still deciding on what I want to order.” _

_ “... Do you have anything a bit … grander … than that?” _

_ “Hey, meals are important! Don’t let Raph hear you imply otherwise.” _

_ “Don’t worry, Raphael and I share that mindset. But really.” _

_ A sigh. “If you insist… well, I have this dream. It’s definitely grand, and sometimes I feel dwarfed by its scope. Like I’m just one, insignificant person, and what I do won’t ever be enough.” _

_ “... Like looking up at the sky and seeing the stars?” _

_ “Wh—hey… yeah, actually. A little bit.” _

_ “For what it’s worth, your dream is definitely more attainable than a star.” _

_ “Hah, probably… I like the stars, though. Watching them makes me feel small, sure, but… in a good way. They relax me, make my dream feel less daunting.” _

_ Two pairs of eyes look heavenward. _

_ “I think I know what you mean.” _

* * *

Esther fully intends to talk to Claude.

The problem is that it is _ impossible _ to talk to him.

Alone, at least—she sees him often around the monastery, and they wave at each other in passing. The issue is that he’s usually with others from his house, or she’s with friends or one of the professors.

But what she needs to tell him _ really _ can’t have others listening in. For obvious reasons.

Running errands for Hanneman and Manuela, she sees him in class, but that’s not a time she can pull him aside to speak. She also can’t really afford to call him out. Doing so would be suspicious, because there’s no reason for her to speak to him alone.

Esther realizes she’s being perhaps a bit paranoid, but ever since that encounter with Solon, she’s been worried he will show up when she least expects it. Related to that, she doesn’t want to be noticed by the Agarthans or any related groups.

So. She can’t just ask to speak to him alone. Even though that would be the easiest solution.

Esther finds him in the courtyard with a few of the other students of the Golden Deer, conversing. She spots Raphael and Leonie and firms her resolve. _ An opportunity. _

“Leonie, Raphael!”

The two turn to her, the former with a smirk and the latter with a wide grin. “Esther, hey! Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

Leonie nudges her with an elbow as she joins the group. “Still keeping up with training?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, hey Esther.” Claude gives a casual wave.

She turns to greet him, trying to figure out the best way to—

“Who’s this?”

Esther blinks down at red eyes. Or pink, rather.

“Oh, you two don’t know each other yet? This is Esther, she’s that apprentice of Manuela’s Hanneman talks about.” Leonie makes a gesture. “And this is—“

“I can introduce myself, thank you.” The petite girl turns back to Esther. “Lysithea von Ordelia. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“... I’m Marianne.”

“It’s nice to meet you both, Lysithea, Marianne.” Esther smiles to the two of them, then turns to the group at large. “What were you talking about before? I didn’t mean to intrude.”

She stifles a cough as her own words register. _ Aha... _

“Nothing, really. Just hanging out.” Leonie rolls her shoulders. “I was actually just thinking about heading over to do some training. Sitting in a classroom all day made me feel rusty.”

“Sitting down for _ four hours _ made you feel rusty.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, be quiet, Claude. I _ mean _ it was hard not to feel antsy.”

“Yeah… It’s kinda hard to sit still for so long,” Raphael says.

“How about we go out and train, then?” Esther suggests. “In fact, why don’t we all go? I can get Seteth to approve of an outing.”

“An outing? Why not train at the grounds?”

Esther nods to Lysithea. “Any of us could train at the grounds as we please, given there’s room available. But I think a change of scenery would do Leonie and Raphael well.” She pauses, as though considering. “I think it would benefit us all, actually. Except for the excursion and the mock battle, we haven’t really left the monastery for battlefield training.”

She turns to gauge the responses. Leonie and Lysithea look thoughtful, while Raphael appears agreeable. She can’t tell if Marianne is considering it or mostly troubled.

Claude shakes his head, “I understand keeping your skills sharp, but class literally just ended for the day. You sure don’t slack, huh.”

“Do you _ ever _ train outside of class and group training?”

“Of course!” He turns to Lysithea, expression one of exaggerated shock. “How could I not? Everyone needs to practice to keep their skills sharp, and I’m no exception.”

Esther smiles. “I didn’t mean right at this moment, of course. I was thinking later today, or tomorrow, maybe.”

Raphael nods. “So, like… independent training outside of normal class hours, but in a group. Were you thinking about the base of the mountain, like we did before?”

Her answer is quick. “No. I was thinking in Alliance territory, considering this group.”

Marianne bows her head forward slightly. Her expression is definitely troubled, this time. “I don’t know…”

“C’mon Marianne, it’ll be a good opportunity! You were talking about practicing your spells, or something.” Raphael leans over, as though to whisper, but his voice doesn’t actually get much quieter. “Actually, I dunno if the birds around the monastery like me much. You think I might have a better chance outside?”

She ducks her head, expression hidden.

“Thanks for the invite, but no thanks.” Claude stands, “You know how it is. Schemes to hatch, plans to execute… Speaking of, I really should get going now.”

_ Wait... _

Leonie smirks. “All right, Claude. You go do what you have to do.”

He waves his hand in a casual goodbye, and leaves.

Esther catches herself before she reaches out. The immediate situation is already out of her hands.

She instead reaches out with her senses even as she turns to Leonie.

“Is he okay?”

“Huh?”

_ … Damn, she’s not nearby anymore. _ “Claude. He seemed a little distant.”

“Oh. Don’t worry too much about it, that’s how he is.” Leonie waves a hand through the air. “You’re right, he _ is _ a little distant because of his circumstances, but he doesn’t let it bother him.”

_ … Also already left. No one else I know is nearby, either. _Esther nods in response to Leonie. 

_ God damn it. _

Her half-formed plan was set knowing Claude would either agree or disagree to the training. If he agreed, and they did leave the monastery, it would be a matter of isolating him so Esther could hold a private conversation then. If he didn’t, she planned to separate him from this group, and then _ happen _ to see someone else she knows, citing a need to leave to help or speak to them. Esther could then find Claude and talk to him.

He left the group, as was the latter plan. But no one she knows is in sight. Cyril was heading in this direction earlier, and Dorothea was nearby, but now neither are at a proximity that would allow her to call out to them. Most people cannot see through walls.

… Well, she doesn’t have an excuse, but she can still try.

Esther stands up.

Leonie jolts at the sudden move. “Whoa, what’s up?”

“I suddenly remembered I forgot to run a couple errands for Professor Manuela.”

_ He hasn’t gone far. He’s heading in the direction of the cathedral. _

Raphael frowns. “Oh… Okay. I was kinda hoping we could hang out, since we haven’t done that in a while.”

Lysithea raises an eyebrow. “I thought I saw you two and Professor Byleth eating together a little while ago?”

“Yeah, but that’s a little different. The Professor is cool and all, but he’s a teacher, and Esther’s a friend.” He shrugs. “It’s okay. I just kinda missed you, is all.”

Esther stares at him. She slowly sits back down.

“... Esther?”

She doesn’t turn to look at Leonie. “I remembered that Professor Manuela needed those errands done by, later. Not now. They can wait a few minutes.”

Killing strangers without batting an eye, bandit or not, she could do. But hurt the feelings of her friends even slightly? Noo, she couldn’t do _ that. _

She feels the urge to lie face-down on the grass. Raphael beams at her, though, which makes the feeling go away. She smiles back.

There will be other opportunities to speak with Claude. An hour or two later than planned won’t affect the grand scheme of things. She could track him down later, after she’s done here.

“... Uh, good for you? I guess?” Leonie stares at her with a look that says she doesn’t know what to make of her. Esther can relate. “Anyway, topic. Training.”

Raphael’s face lights up. “Hey, that’s right! You’ve been helping teach your class, yeah? You could help us too!”

Esther opens her mouth to reply before she actually has anything to say. She pauses at that realization, and closes her mouth.

“That’s... not a bad idea.” Leonie’s expression is contemplative. “You were talking about plans for later, but why don’t we just head to the training grounds now? You could give us pointers while we spar.”

“Wait, what is this about?”

Raphael is the one to answer Lysithea’s question. “Esther here’s part of the Black Eagles, but she’s also kind of like a teacher, apparently. She’s Professor Manuela’s apprentice.”

“Professor Manuela’s apprentice? I see…” She turns to Esther with a nod. “Then, I’d like to join you as well. I’m sure I could learn a few things from you.”

“Yeah, Esther’s pretty good with magic, so she could help both of you.” Leonie nudges Marianne. “How about it? We could all use the help, I’m sure.”

Esther feels like she’s missed something.

“Wait… wait.”

They turn to her. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know—I can’t use Faith magic. I can give pointers, but it would benefit you all to find actual teachers that specialize in your area.”

Raphael frowns. “Sure we could ask the teachers, but, they’re not you?”

She turns to Leonie, expecting clarification. When the other girl only stares back at her, expecting a reply, Esther blinks. “You… specifically, want _ my _ opinion?”

Leonie lifts an eyebrow. “Well, yeah? I mean, we’re friends and all so I don’t mind helping you for free, but I could use some help too. I get a workout when sparring with you, but the fine-tuning’s kinda… Eh.” She narrows her eyes. “Unless, are you against giving me tips, or something? You were the one that said we could ask you for help. Going back on that?”

“What? No,” Esther says quickly. “I’m just, surprised? Like you said, my technique is pretty poor. I don’t know if I’d be much help.”

“It’s only your sword handling that sucks. Besides, just because you can’t execute it well yourself doesn’t mean you don’t know it. Professor Manuela’s bragged to Hanneman about your ‘eye for this kind of thing’, you know.”

… Huh.

“I didn’t, actually.”

“Well, now you do!” Leonie slaps her on the back. “So, give me some tips, throw something at me! I can’t be the only one helping you out.”

Esther turns to her, contemplative.

For the most part, regardless of her future knowledge and position as a sort of teacher’s assistant, she hadn’t planned on suggesting training regimens and specialties to the others. Even setting aside the fact she was befriending the people at Garreg Mach on purpose, she didn’t want to give unsolicited advice.

It’s different with the Black Eagles because she’s _ supposed _ to be Manuela’s assistant. For everyone else, she’s tried to give a general aura of “if you need help, you can find me.” Being unobtrusive but helpful was the point.

Of course, if they _ ask _ her for her input, then there’s no harm. 

Esther nods. “You know how to battle on horseback, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever considered trying a flying mount?”

Leonie pauses. “... No, can’t say I have. What are you thinking?”

“No one in the Golden Deer has experience in flying combat as far as I know. But for any battalion, it’s a good idea to have fliers. Battle won’t always be in wide-open fields. In towns, cities, even villages, the various obstacles make it hard to maneuver around on foot or horse ”

“Captain Jeralt makes it work, though.”

Esther smiles. “Sure he does, but you’re different people. You have different strengths and weaknesses. You’re plenty capable on your own, and I can imagine you leaping off of your horse to join the fray or snipe when obstacles make it an issue. That sort of adaptability isn’t bad, but it could be dangerous—being a flier would not only add to your maneuverability, but also provide you more options.”

“Hmm… Fliers are able to cover a wider area, you’re right about that. But they’ve got their weaknesses too.” Leonie shakes her head. “One stray arrow, and, bam. I no longer have a mount. If I’m in the air, I might not live past that battle, either.”

“As far as weaknesses go, everyone has them. The pegasus knights and wyvern riders in the Knights of Seiros make it work, so while arrows _ are _ a concern, it’s not something that can’t be circumvented.” Esther shrugs. “Besides, it was only a suggestion. I’m sure you’ll do just fine with whatever you choose, because you aren’t the type to give up halfway.”

Leonie grins. “Damn right I’m not. I’ll think about it—I never considered flying mounts before, so I don’t know much about them. Consider me somewhat convinced.”

“If… If it’s about the mounts, I might be able to help.”

“Yeah!” Raphael beams at Marianne. “Marianne is really good at taking care of the animals at the stables. She knows what they’re thinking, how they feel, and all that. I’m sure she can help you out, Leonie.”

“It’s, um, not that big of a deal...“

“Ooh, I see. That’s right, Dorte’s your friend, right? I’ll be relying on you to introduce me to a good mount, then.”

Marianne fiddles with the corner of her cape, eyes directed downwards. She’s smiling, though, however small it is. “Okay.”

“It’s a date.” Leonie smiles, then turns to the group at large. “So, who’s next?”

Esther glances to the others. “‘Next’?”

“Next to grill you for some advice, obviously. I don’t think I’ve seen you sit in one place for this long since, what, the beginning of the year? You’re always busy.”

Esther blinks.

“I’ll go next! Do you have anything to say about my fighting style? How about my strength? I’m pretty strong, but do you think I should get stronger?”

Esther smiles at Raphael, a little awkward. “I’d be happy to help you, but I don’t know your fighting style beyond what I saw at the mock battle. What I did see makes me think you’re already training in the areas best suited to you, it’s just a matter of honing what you already have.”

Raphael blinks. “Huh. Then you don’t have anything to help me with?”

“Not if you’re not having any problems, no. Is there anything that you have trouble with?”

Lysithea pipes in, “You have trouble studying.”

“Oh yeah, that!” Raphael brightens, only to frown immediately after. “All the assignments, reading, and class stuff… It’s hard. Sometimes I think I get it, but then it all becomes a jumbled mess in my mind and nothing stays.”

_ Huh. _ “Have you tried studying while training?”

“While… training?”

“Yes. Do you start to feel restless and frustrated after trying to study?”

Raphael considers this. “… Yeah, actually. And then I end up looking at the words on the pages and it’s like… I’m just staring at things that don’t mean anything. Makes it pretty hard to learn what I’m supposed to.”

“Try balancing your study sessions with training. Combining something you do well with something you don’t can give necessary variety. You can even try doing both simultaneously—reading a book while doing push-ups, for instance. It’ll let you work off energy while focusing your mind on the assignment.”

“... Would that really work?”

Esther tilts her head at Lysithea’s doubtful tone. “We all have different minds, which means different things will work for us. What constitutes ‘focused studying’ for one person could be no better than repeatedly bashing a book to the face, for another.”

Esther hears a snort of unknown origin as she turns back to Raphael. “It’s a matter of figuring out what routine works best for you, so try different things. That’s what I do.”

Raphael blinks at her, mouth agape. “Wait, you get frustrated and restless while studying, too?”

“Yes. I found ways to work _ with _ my capacity, instead of against it.”

Leonie cradles her chin with a hand. “Huh. I think I’ll try out your advice here, too.”

Raphael nods. “I’ll try some other ways to study and train, see if that works.” He smiles, warm. “Thanks, Esther!”

Her smile mirrors his. “I’m happy to help.”

“I suppose it’s us next, then?” Lysithea says. “I’d like to hear what you have to say about magic.”

Esther wonders if this is a test. “I don’t dare suggest anything to you. I only just met the both of you today.”

Lysithea frowns. “You have been learning under both Professor Manuela and Professor Hanneman. You’re our senior in magic, so you should help us out. Right?"

She turns to Marianne, who suddenly looks a great deal more panicked. “Oh. Um, yes.”

_ … I don’t understand. _ “Part of giving helpful advice is knowing the capabilities of the person you’re giving it to,” Esther hedges.

Lysithea’s frown deepens. Esther rushes to continue, “Instead, how about… How about you tell me your thoughts? I can be a sounding board if either of you aren’t sure about what to focus on, and if I know any experts you could go to, or any useful resources, I’ll tell you.”

Leonie nods. “That’s true. You might also come up with the answer yourselves just by verbalizing it.”

It’s a little funny watching Lysithea’s expression go from a disapproving frown to genuine puzzlement as she thinks.

_ I doubt she has any issues right now that can’t be solved with hard work… besides her two crests, at least, _ Esther mentally corrects. _ But she’s a hard worker. _

Marianne lifts her hand, hovering. “... I’d like your advice on something.”

Esther didn’t think she would take the initiative to start an interaction. She hides her surprise with a smile.

“I’m specializing in Faith at the moment, but, I was thinking of trying Reason, too. The problem is that I can’t cast Fire. It’s the beginner’s spell for Reason mages, but, I. Um.“ Marianne’s expression shifts, her shoulders dropping a fraction. ” … Never mind. I shouldn’t have brought this up.”

Esther tries to inject as much encouragement into her smile and tone. “What are the problems you have with the spell?”

Marianne shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I can’t use Reason magic, it’s not for me. I’ll just—”

“Hey, we all start from the bottom when trying new things, yeah?” Leonie pats Marianne’s tightly-clenched fist. “And you won’t be able to figure things out unless you keep working at it. You may as well try to get what help you can.”

“... I shouldn’t spend time around others.”

Raphael leans forward, serious. “That’s not true. We’re classmates, and friends, so of course we should spend time around each other.”

“Right, and there’s nothing wrong with asking for help. Everyone needs to ask for help sometimes.”

“But I…”

Esther feels as though she’s intruding. She coughs into a fist. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but if you do tell me the specific issues you’re having, I might be able to help.”

Marianne considers this, her eyes glancing between the others. She sighs, but her expression seems a little brighter. “I don’t think it’ll help, but… When I try to cast the spell, it burns. More than I think it’s supposed to, at least.”

_ … That doesn’t tell me much. _Thinking about Esther’s own casting, it feels like a steady warmth for her, almost comforting. They burn, but that’s the nature of fire.

“Burns… I get the same feeling, though, and I don’t have any issues—“ Lysithea pauses, blinking. “Does it hurt?”

Esther’s thoughts stall.

“A little,” Marianne answers with a nod. “I can get the flames to manifest if I try, but it hurts the more I force it. It isn’t as bad as actually being burned, but it’s like, um.” She frowns, “... Sorry. It’s… hard to explain.”

Esther turns to her. “Have you spoken to Professor Hanneman about this?”

Marianne shakes her head. “No. I didn’t want to be a bother, and he’s busy. He wouldn’t have the time to waste on someone who can’t use Reason.”

“I can’t use Faith at all, but Professor Manuela still helps me with what she can. Besides, you _ can _ use Reason. I’m certain.”

Esther gets a few odd looks at her certainty, but she knows it’s not unfounded.

Marianne was of the few people who could use ice-based magic. Of those who could, she was the most powerful. _ I can’t believe I forgot this. _

“Talk to Professor Hanneman, and look for ice-based tomes.”

“Ice?”

“Yes. My own magic leans towards the element of fire, so I’ve always been able to wield fire-based spells easily. But before I came to Garreg Mach, I was looking into other kinds of magic.”

“Not just fire, but also wind, lightning, and ice magic,” Lysithea concludes.

Esther nods. “Right.”

She never tried ice magic, actually—it’s too rare and the resources she could get her hands on were related to the main three spell elements. But they don’t need to know that.

“I never could use any ice magic no matter how hard I tried. Essentially, I had a weakness in ice, but a strength in fire.” Esther smiles. “It makes sense that two elements opposed to each other would be a strength and a weakness for some, right?”

Rather than the relief she expects, Marianne looks more troubled, brow furrowed deeply. “That’s…”

“What’s on your mind?”

She glances to Raphael, then shakes her head. “... It’s nothing.” She turns to Esther with a grave look. “Um, thank you for your help. I will… I will look into it.”

Esther puzzles over her reaction for a moment, but nods.

When the conversation lulls for a moment, she thinks back to her plan, and checks Claude’s position in the monastery. She glances to her friends.

Leonie and Lysithea look contemplative in a way that also seems like they have something to say. Esther gets the feeling that, if she wants to be able to leave, she needs to leave _ now. _

She stands. “I should get going.”

“Huh?” Leonie snaps out of her thoughts, “You’re leaving now? I wanted to train with you, though.”

Lysithea nods. “Me too. I wanted to see what you were capable of. If we trained together, you would be able to see my own capabilities as well, and then you’d be able to correct any issues you see.”

As pleasant as it might be to stay with them, Esther’s purpose definitely hadn’t been to train even more that day, and staying was an impulse. _ Maybe I can catch up to him before he ends up in another group. _

She gives an apologetic smile. “Maybe another time, I should probably complete those errands today. Even if I have until tomorrow, I’m sure Professor Manuela will want them done as soon as po—“

She’s interrupted by a shout of her name.

“Esther!”

Leonie blinks. “Huh. You have a good instinct.”

Esther turns, a foreboding feeling in the back of her mind. Manuela walks towards her at a pace that is frankly unfair, considering the woman is in heels.

The polite smile is automatic. “Professor Manuela. Did I forget somethi—“

“Come with me,” Manuela says, already pulling Esther’s arm.

_ I don’t want to, _ Esther thinks, even as she follows without protest. She waves goodbye to the others, smiling weakly. They wave back with varying expressions of puzzlement.

They end up at the training grounds. The fact she ended up there despite her last conversation is an irony she recognizes.

Esther stares down, glancing between the sword in Manuela’s hand and her own.

“... Uh,” she says eventually.

Manuela mumbles something unintelligible before turning to her, smiling brightly. “We’re going to actually fix your Goddess-damned sword form, today.”

… This is not what they agreed on. Esther wasn’t even aware Manuela _ used _ swords.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were struggling so much. I’m a swordswoman myself, and a pretty damned good one! As proficient as Felix, Leonie, and the rest of them are, they’re still students. Did you even consider coming to ask _ me _ for pointers?”

“Um,” Esther says eloquently. A budding wordsmith in her own right.

“Well, at least it’s given you a foundation to work off of, so I know we’re not starting from the bottom. We can jump right to sparring.” Manuela settles into a stance, still smiling. “Now, let me see just what I’m working with.”

“Wait,” Esther blurts, trying for a smile of her own. “Even if I’m not a beginner, shouldn’t we start with you pointing out errors, and…”

“No need. Dodging and blocking is a great way to learn.”

Esther does, in fact, improve in her swordsmanship afterwards. Her ability to dodge and block attacks as well. Her friends notice it immediately, congratulating her on her improvement.

She also gains a noticeable—and healthy—wariness around Manuela for a time.

* * *

The days are spent attending classes, doing chores, spending small moments with her friends, and preparing for the future.

It’s almost startling how easy it has been for Esther to be accepted into the Black Eagles. A part of her still expected some distance, a normal amount one should expect when meeting complete strangers. She had been prepared to have to figure out some social skill to be fully accepted.

But, as with her friends, they’re… nice. Welcoming. They all have their quirks, as many of the people she has met do, but they only make it easier for her to be integrated into the group.

Even Linhardt, stubborn as he is in his own way, is unexpectedly easy to get to the training grounds that day for class.

Esther had expected that he would need some serious motivating. And she was correct, for the most part, but she knew certain things about him that helped on the “motivating” part.

He’s almost a little _ too _ motivated about this particular subject, however.

_ I may have made a mistake. _

The Black Eagles are in the training hall, the day’s training just about wrapped up. The knights linger near the walls as the students mingle, getting in some last-minute practice before their allotted time is up.

Linhardt makes a sharp gesture with his hand, letting out an aggravated sigh. He shows no signs of leaving.

“_How _ you are capable of casting any spells is a mystery to me. It makes no _ sense.” _

Despite herself, Esther feels a little offended. Her magic is the area she’s most confident in, after all. “And just what about it doesn’t make sense?”

“You’ve been training in magic for how long, now?”

His tone is exasperated as he speaks. Esther smiles thinly, not replying.

He sighs. “Magic requires structure. Whether it’s pictured in the mind of the caster, written out in a book, tattoos, the ground, whatever—certain formulas are needed in order to successfully channel magic into the spell and achieve the desired effect.”

“Yes. I know this.” Esther hadn’t slacked on her studies prior to arriving at the academy. Her resources weren’t many, sure, but she maximized her ability from what she had. She memorized the runes and everything.

“You might _ know _ it, but you don’t apply it to your magic, which should render your spells useless.” He frowns. “You obviously don’t have inscriptions in a book or written elsewhere. And you don’t picture the runes in your mind, right? Rather, you picture the effect, like the fire in the Fire spell.”

Esther is a little unnerved that he knows that. Is it obvious? “Yes, I do visualize the effect. But how did you know?”

“Cast Fire.”

She shoots him a look. He lifts an eyebrow.

She shakes her head, and casts Fire.

“What did you see?” His tone is expectant.

Esther turns to him, skeptical. “... I saw fire?”

“And nothing else, right?”

_ … I don’t understand. _

“I don’t understand,” she says honestly.

Linhardt nods, then turns to the side, arm outstretched. A ring of light circles his arms as he murmurs under his breath, fire spinning into existence through the runes—

“Oh.”

He lets his spell fizzle out, nodding.

“Yes, ‘oh’. It normally isn’t so blatant, of course, because it’d be an awful tell to your enemies. They could anticipate the spells you cast. But the most we can do is _ diminish _ the effect, not completely erase it. Those who have true mastery over magic can hide it pretty effectively. But the point is they’re still _ there.” _ He turns to Esther. “In your case, they aren’t there. At all.”

Esther stares at him. She briefly closes her eyes, rubbing the side of her head.

“Ah, Professor Hanneman.”

She turns to see that Hanneman is, in fact, there. Linhardt nods his head. “What are you doing here? I don’t believe today was a training day for the Golden Deer.”

“Yes, well, Hilda fainted, so she was brought to the infirmary to rest. I actually came here looking for Manuela…” He turns to Esther. “... and happened to overhear this interesting conversation. What exactly is the problem?”

“The way she casts makes no sense,” Linhardt says before Esther can reply. She shoots him a look. “She doesn’t use the runes at all. Aren’t they fundamental to magic?”

“Ah. I understand that it seems odd, but I assure you, her casting is safe. And it _ is _ Reason, and therefore magic—just a different way to apply it.”

… But Esther is definitely not using runes while casting, not in the way they’re supposed to be used. She had thought they were like theory, or building blocks that go towards the shaping of a mage’s magic, not that they were fundamental formulas to the casting itself.

Esther turns to Hanneman. “Is it at all possible for someone to cast without utilizing runes?”

“No. Magic is inherent in all of us, but runes are a necessary medium between caster and spell through which our magic is converted. Moreover, runes provide the structure—without them, we would have no control.”

“Then…”

Hanneman looks up, thinking. “But, it’s probably possible for someone to do so without realizing it…”

Linhardt’s tone is unimpressed. “And how would that work?”

“The runes are as such for a reason. It wasn’t humans who made them, but rather that they existed before, and we deciphered them to be able to use magic. A sort of natural code, so to speak.” Hanneman crosses his arms. “It could be that she has a natural grasp for them, and so doesn’t need to rely on physical inscription or memory. Rather, it’s an intuitive understanding.”

Esther feels the anxiety in her chest loosen, relieved.

It’s not that she’s found yet another way that she’s abnormal, then. She already has her odd memory gaps and unexplained confidence—intuition?—regarding certain things. She doesn’t need yet another unanswered mystery about herself to add to the pile.

Moreover, it’s probably nothing to worry about—Hanneman or Manuela would have noticed something about her casting, if it really was something… really different. But they haven’t, and Hanneman even said that it’s safe. So it’s either not too important or not an issue.

He turns to her. “But still, of course, come to me if there are any issues.”

Esther nods, contemplating her schedule for the day. If she leaves now, she should have about half an hour before she needs to check in with Seteth for paperwork deliveries.

She might feel a little bad leaving the cleanup to everyone else, but this is only one instance where she’s doing this.

She smiles. “Then, if that’s all, I have a few things I need to do.”

Esther moves to leave, but as she does so, she locks eyes with Manuela. Who starts walking over.

_ Again? _ The thought is slightly despairing. _ At least it won’t end in bruises and cuts like last time. Hopefully. _

“Ah, Manuela, I was looking for you. Hilda fainted, so I came to ask for your aid."

Manuela frowns. “Again? Oh, fine, just give me a moment—Esther.”

Esther smiles. It’s reflexive. “Yes?”

“Bernadetta’s attendance record has been abysmal. She hasn’t missed all the classes, but this really can’t go on. We don’t have much time before the end-of-the-month assignment.” Manuela gives her an expectant look. “Please go convince her to attend the rest of the classes.”

It’s not as bad as she feared. Still. “Why don’t you go yourself? Wouldn’t a professor be more convincing?”

“No, that girl is afraid of her own shadow, and can’t meet my eyes when we speak. _ If _ she speaks. I’m hoping that, hearing it from a peer, she might listen.”

Esther considers that, and nods. “You know I can’t promise anything. I’m not going to force her if she doesn’t want to.”

Manuela lifts an eyebrow. “It’s training. She needs to learn, for her own safety.”

“Which is true, and I’m sure she understands.” Esther shakes her head. “I’ll do what I can. Just to be sure, it’s fine as long as she’s training, right?”

She gets another odd look for that, though it’s significantly more knowing. Manuela sighs. “Yes, fine. Now go.”

She excuses herself, Hanneman giving her a quick goodbye and Linhardt offering a short nod after a moment. It only takes a handful of minutes before Esther is standing in front of Bernadetta’s room, organizing her thoughts. Her knowledge gives her a great deal of insight on the world and the people here, but it doesn’t amount to much if she doesn’t use it properly.

She lifts a fist and knocks.

“W-who’s there!?”

“Good afternoon, Bernadetta. It’s Esther. I’m here to tell you to attend classes and stop skipping out on the group training.”

Silence is the answer.

“Bernadetta?”

“Eep!” _ Thud. _

Esther feels concern and doubt creep in. “... Bernadetta, are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine! Don’t come in! I don’t need to come to class, it’s—it’s okay!”

_ ‘Don’t come in’? Is the door unlocked? _ She glances down to the door handle before shaking her head. “You do need to attend class. Even if you are already quite skilled, we learn new things everyday. Things important for survival.”

“But it’s—it’s pointless. I don’t care. I won’t go.”

“Can you tell me why?”

Silence.

“Is it the class you have issues with? The people?”

More silence.

_ I tried. _ “Okay, fine. You can stay in your room for now.”

_ Thud. _ “Huh?”

“But I’ll come to your room, every day, so you can copy my notes. I would make copies for you, but I don’t have the time during class—and I think it’d be better for retention if you wrote them yourself anyway.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Esther ignores the refusal. “And I’ll sit here while you go over them, so that if you have any questions, I’ll be here to ask.”

Silence. Then, “... Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you do that? If you’re just…” She trails off. Esther hears a sigh. “You should just leave me here in my room. It’s fine this way.”

_ It’s really not, considering the war. _ “No.”

Spluttering. “_No?” _

Despite herself, Esther laughs, relaxing. “Yes, ‘no’. I could leave you on your own, but I decided to help everyone in our house as much as possible. That includes you.”

She hears quiet muttering she can’t decipher. “... Isn't this a burden on you, though?”

“It’s not a burden, just an extra thing to do.”

“That _ is _ a burden, though. I’m just—I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t _ want _ to be here, but I was—“

Esther frowns. “Wait.”

“I knew it, you should just leave me, I should just be left here forever. Stupid, this is why everyone hates you, Bernie! Can’t do anything right, always a burden—“

“Bernadetta!”

She tries to keep her voice from a yell, but the abrupt silence tells her she still might’ve been too loud. Esther lifts her hand and knocks lightly on the door. “It’s another task, yes, but I was the one that suggested it, right? I do it willingly. And you are not a burden.”

“But I don’t attend class and because of that you have to do this. Professor Manuela told you to do this, right? You didn’t have another choice right? How am I _ not _ a burden?”

Her tone is not one expecting an answer, but as though affirming a known fact. Esther knows that anything she might say to try to convince her of otherwise would sound patronizing at best.

Esther hums, trying to think of something to say. “You know, I used to be just as shy as you.”

She blinks. _ I did? _

”... You did?”

Bernadetta’s voice is hesitant, but it’s still a response. Esther puts aside her own confusion and speaks whatever words come to mind.

“I did. I can’t recall much, but I had a difficult time connecting with people. Rather, even speaking was difficult—in class, my heart would speed up any time I thought the teacher was about to call on me, and I couldn’t get through a conversation with my classmates without stuttering and turning red.”

It feels like she’s retelling a story she doesn’t quite remember. _ What a weird feeling. _

“... How did you change?”

Esther hesitates. “There were people waiting for me,” she not-quite lies. “And they wanted the best for me. So one day, I decided to try.”

A sigh. “It’s not that simple.”

She nods. “You’re right, it’s not. That was just one decision. But I didn’t let it _ stop _ at that one decision, I kept trying, and it eventually led to today. And it started from having people who were there for me, so.”

Esther sits down, back to the door. “So at the very least, I can sit here.”

Bernadetta makes a noise that could be called a squawk. “What—no! You can’t just sit outside of my door!”

“Why not?”

“Because—because it’s my door! And, and—you have other things you need to do, right? I’m just—this is—“

Esther can more or less guess where her thoughts are going, again. “It’s not a burden to be here. You aren’t a burden, Bernadetta.”

_ Words are empty, but sometimes, we need to hear them anyway. _

“Sure.” The tone is flat.

Esther smiles. “I’m not lying or exaggerating. But, if it helps convince you, you’re right—Professor Manuela did ask me to convince you to come to class.”

“Hah! I knew it!”

“_Which is why _ this isn’t a burden at all. If I’m busy doing this, my superiors can’t conveniently order me around the monastery.” Esther lifts a hand and lightly knocks on the door behind her, again. “Personally, I think it’s more enjoyable talking to you like this than organizing dusty storage rooms or running errands.”

… Of course, she still needs to talk to Claude. But the point remains: this is more enjoyable than the busy work she’s assigned otherwise.

Bernadetta is silent for a while. Esther clears her throat.

“_But. _ You still need to attend training! I can bring you the class materials, but you need to stay in shape. The world is a dangerous place, after all, and you need to be able to protect yourself when necessary.”

“No, that’s not happening. I’m not leaving my room. You can give up on that!”

“Well, I guess you can just go train while there isn’t anyone there… Did you know the training hall is kept open through the night? They don’t lock up the building. Of course, they secure the armory, which means you would have to bring your own gear. But the space is left open.”

A pause.

“But I was hoping to train with you, you know. This is fine, but don’t you think it’d be nicer to talk face to face? Without a door separating us?”

_ Thud. _ “Er! No thanks, this is fine! Just, stay right there! Don’t you dare move!”

Bernadetta’s tone is distinctly flustered. She doesn’t seem to realize she’s accepted the idea of having an occasional visitor outside of her door.

Esther smiles, genuine.

* * *

Esther rushes between the gates and the training hall, carrying the shipments of weapons. It’s been a week since she decided to talk to Claude, but she still hasn’t found the right opportunity to speak to him.

She is determined.

_ If I can’t find an opportunity, I’ll _ make _ one, then. _

Weapon shipments, then restocking the infirmary. Faculty meeting, student evaluations with Manuela, taking stock of the monastery’s monthly spendings in the different facilities and reporting it to Seteth. That last one in particular will have her running around the monastery, and her schedule is quite full.

Still. She’s certain she can complete it all quickly and earn herself some free time to do what she needs to.

Esther hurries to complete her tasks here so she can move on to the next. It takes four more trips before she delivers the final batch of weapons. Her arms feel a little sore from the workout, which is why the crate slips from her fingers as she’s leaning down.

The crate hits the ground with a loud _ thud _ that echoes in the hall. She winces.

_ … Nothing was damaged, right? _

Esther reaches out to check, then lets her hand drop back to her side. No, it should be fine. Probably. _ They’re weapons, they shouldn’t be that weak. _

Esther is leaving the hall, reading through her task list, when she nearly runs into Ignatz.

She’s distracted, but not terribly so. She recognizes his presence a few metres away and stops, stepping to the side just as he rounds the corner.

“Oh! Hi Esther. Here to train?”

“Hello Ignatz.” She shakes her head. “And no, I was actually delivering the new shipment of weapons.”

He blinks. “... Huh. You handle that too?”

“Only for today, it’s normally handled by the reserve knights. But what about you? Are you here to train?”

“Ah… Yeah, actually.” Ignatz ducks his head a moment. “I’m actually glad I caught you. I heard from Raphael and Leonie that you helped them out, and I was hoping you could give me some advice too…”

His tone is hopeful. Esther doesn’t have the time, honestly, as she does have more tasks to complete before she can try to track down Claude. 

Esther smiles. “Sure, I have some time to spare. What’s the problem?”

He brightens immediately. “Oh, thanks! Um, well, it’s obviously important for us to decide what we want to specialize in as early as possible, so we can dedicate the time to honing those skills. But I’m having a bit of trouble deciding, you see.”

“What are your strengths?”

“Bow.” He winces. “... Well, it’s what I’m best at, though I wouldn’t actually say I’m very good at it…”

Esther shakes her head. “Don’t say that. I’m going to venture a guess that you only just started using the bow, which means it’s just a matter of practice.”

“I guess.”

She doesn’t remember what he specialized in, unfortunately—rather, she remembers a wider range of proficiencies than usual. It’s still enough to give somewhat helpful advice.

“Okay. From what I’ve gathered, you have about average strength and you don’t have any experience in magic, though you could probably become a mage if you wanted. But, you’re skilled with your hands, and you’re quick-footed.”

“What makes you say that?”

Esther blinks. “What part?”

“Er… All of it? Except about strength.”

“Well, I already knew you were skilled with your hands, and during the mock battle I saw how quick you were in comparison to your opponents. Magic-wise, we won’t know your potential until you actually try it out, but your speed and dexterity wouldn’t be a bad accompaniment to spell-casting.”

Ignatz frowns. “A mage, huh… I don’t really know anything about magic, though. I mean, I’m interested, but I don’t know if it’d be for me.”

“It’s something to try out. If not, then you can continue with the bow.” Esther pauses. “... Actually, you might… I could teach you some skills I picked up.”

That grabs his attention. “Skills? Like what?”

Esther pulls him over to the training grounds main area, speaking as she grabs some knives and a training sword from the reserve.

“They’re just a couple things that I learned from my, er. An old teacher of mine,” she says. “She taught me a lot of things. Dagger-wielding, how to control my breathing, shifting my balance for silent steps, lock-picking. Not all of them can be applied directly to battlefield combat, but they are all useful.”

Ignatz holds his hands out as she drops the daggers into his open palms. He blinks. “... Those sound like thief skills?”

Esther pauses at that. Because, that’s not _ wrong, _ but. “... Assassin actually, I think.”

Ignatz’s eyes go wide. “Your _ assassin _ trained you!?”

_ Wait, what. _ “No,” Esther replies a tad quickly, “No, she—I think she _ was _ an assassin, before we met. I asked her train me, and she happened to say yes. After some nagging on my part, but…”

“Oh… okay,” Ignatz says. The wide-eyed look doesn’t go away, though.

Esther shows him the technique for throwing the daggers she gave him, and then shows him the technique for her own.

“It’s the same form, but you have to adjust positioning and strength depending on the blade itself. Length, width, weight—other factors that might impede its flight.”

She walks him through the exercises Abelia taught her, how to modulate his breathing and the technique for minimizing sound. He’s a little clumsier with these than with the daggers, but she had already known he was most skilled with his hands.

Esther eventually steps back. “Do you think you’ve got it?”

“Yeah… yeah, I’ll have to practice it, but I think I’ve got the idea.” Ignatz relaxes, shaking out his limbs before standing straight. “It’s surprisingly difficult, considering the actual movement is so small. I never really tried to modulate my breathing before, and moving silently really requires an awareness of not only myself but also my surroundings, huh.”

Esther smiles. “You’ll get it. But like I said, focus on your strengths—bow, sword, and dagger should be your focus. Bow for distance, sword for close combat.”

“And daggers for throwing?”

“For throwing or other forms of close combat,” Esther elaborates. “You might end up in a situation where you need to fight in close quarters, but a sword is too unwieldy. Daggers are more flexible.”

Ignatz contemplates this. “A situation in… So, not on the battlefield.”

“Right. Conflict can be anywhere, and you never know what the future may bring. My teacher told me the same thing—I could end up in all kinds of situations I hadn’t considered, so it’s best to be prepared for as many as I can.”

“Hopefully we won’t have to use these skills anytime soon.” Ignatz frowns. “Garreg Mach is safe, but it’s true that anything could happen.”

Esther just smiles.

“What I’ve taught you isn’t enough. There’s a teacher named Shamir that you should seek out. She’s an expert in pretty much everything I just went over with you—if you have questions, I suggest you go to her.”

_ Is Cyril already learning under her? _Esther hasn’t seen her around the monastery yet, which she finds a little odd. On a mission, maybe.

She could also ask Abelia to help, actually. If she could visit for a week or two, she could help refine Ignatz’s abilities in a way Esther can’t. Maybe she could even start Cyril on self-defense...

Ignatz thanks her, his smile slightly more confident than earlier. He moves to help her return the training sword but she shakes her head—he may as well spend this time training, instead.

Esther locks up the storage room and walks out to see Ignatz practicing. He beams her way, and she smiles, waving goodbye.

She walks out of the training hall, again, her sense reaching across the monastery. 

And for the second time, she’s stopped not far from the entrance.

“Oh.” Esther bows her head in greeting. “Good morning. Lorenz, I believe?”

The noble nods, smiling. “Yes. Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

Esther takes a reflexive step back when his hand reaches out towards hers. He blinks, glancing between her and her hand, before letting his own drop back down to his side.

Esther hides her wince behind a smile.

She knows, vaguely, the observed formalities. It’s not enough to put it into practice or be comfortable with them, though, and the kiss to the back of the hand is… odd.

Lorenz clears his throat. “You are the only daughter of the empire’s House Nuvelle, Correct? Esther von Nuvelle?”

_ … That explains why he tried to go the formal route. _“Yes, but how did you know? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Ah, Leonie mentioned it. You are quite the popular topic amongst my peers… But, that isn’t what I approached you for.” He gestures to the training hall. “Your deeds.”

“My... deeds?”

“While I do not understand the necessity of someone in your position doing chores, I happened upon you helping Ignatz earlier. And I must say, I was warmed by your regard to your duties. It is, of course, the duty of nobles to guide the common folk.”

_ Oh no. _ “That’s not why I helped him.”

“Oh? What is your reasoning, then? But you should know that, even if it wasn’t explicitly your intention, what you just did is something that exemplifies the duty of nobles.” He reaches out again, then retracts his hand, thinking better of it. “I felt it was of utmost importance that I praise your efforts.”

Esther eyes him behind her placid smile.

_ He’s… not flirting, right? Or, rather, is he looking down on me? _

… No. Between what she knows and what she can see in his words and gestures, he’s not trying to look down on her, and she’s pretty certain he isn’t looking amongst empire nobles for marriage candidates. It’s just his ideals talking.

She knows he means well. Lorenz isn’t the arrogant noble he comes off as, not really, and he truly does have a deep concern for those around him.

But… she is uncomfortable.

Esther lets her smile drop. “Please don’t bother. I’m uncomfortable.”

“Un… uncomfortable?” Lorenz frowns. “In what way? If I am making you uncomfortable, please tell me how so I may rectify my behavior.”

She blinks. “... Well, Ignatz is someone I consider a friend, which is why I helped him. I didn’t help him because it was a noble’s duty.”

“But that doesn’t explain what you are uncomfortable with.”

“I wanted to help him because that’s what friends do, not because of an obligation. I’m uncomfortable because you made my act of friendship into one of duty between a noble and a commoner.”

Lorenz’s frown deepens. “And what is wrong with obligation?”

She feels a minor headache. “It’s not exactly pleasant to have a relationship where the focus is on obligation, because rather than spending time or helping friends because you like them, it becomes a matter of… utility? Because you are beholden to them?” She considers her words. “It becomes an unpaid debt, and no one likes being in debt.”

“Ah, but a noble’s actions should always be dictated by the responsibility he bears, because it is when nobles _ forget _those responsibilities that they can be swayed by injustice and base desires.” Lorenz makes a sweeping gesture. “When a noble allows what they desire or what is pleasant to dictate their choices, they lose sight of justice.”

Esther stifles a grimace. “We will have to agree to disagree. I just don’t like thinking of my relationships in terms of obligations.”

_ Especially not when my friendships are, in fact, with other intentions_, she thinks to herself. _ However well-meaning they may be. _

“But again, what is so wrong about obligations? In a way, all of our actions are dictated by our obligations. I am obligated to attend Garreg Mach for the sake of the Alliance's future. Any student is obligated to complete tasks and assignments on time in exchange for their continued attendance.”

_ He means well. _ “We can have conflicting obligations. If you were directed by your father to do one thing, but as a noble were obligated to do another, you would have to make a choice. As a filial son or a noble with his duties, you would have to give one up.”

Lorenz blinks. “... I see. Your point is that we are therefore not beholden to all obligations at all times. I admittedly had not thought of it that way. But even still, I—“

_ Oh, God, no. _

She turns. “Cyril!”

The boy jumps, clearly startled, and turns wide eyes to her direction. Esther turns to Lorenz with an apologetic look.

“Ah, I apologize, I really should get back to my tasks. It’s not fair to make Cyril do all of them as a result of my slacking—have a nice day!”

The last thing she sees is his slack-jawed look before she’s walking over to Cyril, just barely not running.

He shoots her a look when she falls into step with him. “What was _ that _ all about?”

“Sorry, just an awkward conversation.”

“... Huh. Okay.”

“Anyway, how have you been?” Esther eyes the soil sack in his hands. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“We see each other almost everyday, though?”

Esther shakes her head. “I mean, we haven’t talked in a while. We see each other often, yes, but we haven’t really spoken.”

“I don’t really have time for that.”

They walk into the greenhouse, and Cyril props the soil bag against the wall. Esther looks around. “Is there anything I can help with?”

“No.”

Esther knew he would say that, but she figured there was no harm in asking. “So how have you been?”

“We’re far away from that guy you were having an ‘awkward conversation’ with.” He shakes his head. “You don’t have to keep talking to me.”

_... Am I the one forcing an awkward conversation, now?_ Esther thinks a little wryly. “I didn’t call out to you _ just _ because of that,” she says, meaning it. Sure it was the reason at the time, but… “Like I said, we haven’t really talked in a while. I just wanted to know if you’ve been well.”

His expression softens a bit. “... I’ve been fine.”

“Anything new happen? ‘Fine’ can mean a lot of things.”

“... Not really?” He glances away, thinking. “I mean, I’ve been doing my daily chores and stuff. Lady Rhea’s been busy.” He shrugs. “Nothing new has happened. Just, daily life.”

_ … Well. _ “Really? You haven’t spoken with anyone else? Have you met some of the new students?”

“I have my chores and they have their classes. Besides, most of them are nobles, so it’s not really… Actually, I guess I—“

_ Grumble. _

Both of them go wide-eyed.

_ … I don’t think I’ve seen him in the dining hall, before. _ Esther smiles. “Hey, do you want to go grab some food in the dining hall?”

He frowns, looking to the garden. “Uh, no. I still have to—“

_ Growl. _

Esther continues to smile at him, not saying a word.

Cyril ducks his head. He lifts a hand to rub his neck. “... Okay.”

They reach the dining hall, each ordering their food from the day’s menu. Cyril’s eyes go a little wide when he sees her tray, but otherwise doesn’t comment.

“The food here’s always really good,” Cyril says in-between bites. “I don’t eat here often, but it’s nice. Nicer than anything I had before.”

Esther opens her mouth to ask what Almyran food is like, before she thinks better of it. “Are you happy, here?”

“Hm?”

“Here at the monastery,” Esther specifies. “Have you adjusted?”

He shoots her a curious look. “Yeah? I mean, Fodlan’s weird, sure. The people are different. But it’s a lot better than Almyra.” He smiles. “If it weren’t for Lady Rhea, I’d still… Well, I’m grateful to her. Did you know she prays every single day for her followers? And even though she’s so busy, being the archbishop and all, she tries to listen to everyone she can.”

Esther observes him with a smile, finger tapping her leg below the table.

Cyril is very quiet, usually. He can speak up when he wants to, but it usually isn’t him that initiates the conversation—too busy with chores to socialize, he says.

The only time he speaks freely, is when it’s about Rhea.

Esther brightens her smile. “Cyril. How do you feel about learning under Manuela with me?”

His easy expression turns to confusion. “Huh? Why would I do that? I’m too busy, and that’s for noble kids anyway.”

“It's not just for nobles. Besides, I’m not saying that you join the class, but you could still learn things. How to read, how to defend yourself, among other things.” Esther continues before he can object, “Think about it this way. If you learn more, you can better help and protect the people you care for.”

He pauses, considering, but shakes his head. “... That sounds nice and all, but I still don’t have the time. I have too many chores.”

“I can take on some of your chores.”

“Why don’t you focus on your own things before trying to take on other people’s responsibilities?”

Esther smiles, a little wry at the unknowingly accurate comment. “As far as trustworthy people goes, R—Lady Rhea only has Seteth by her side. He’s the only one she trusts, and is capable of taking on a portion of her workload. Right?”

Cyril eyes her, but nods.

“Professor Manuela and I can teach you how to read. From there, you can learn politics, history, mathematics, and various other things that you could use to help the archbishop. She has many servants and knights, but learned, capable people she can trust?” Esther shakes her head. “Not so much.”

She doesn’t really like using his devotion to Rhea in this, but as it is, it’s the most guaranteed way to sway him. His reliance will stay as it is unless he gains skills that let him stand on his own.

“... I’ll think about it.” Cyril takes a bite of his food. “But, I don’t need to learn how to read.”

Esther’s brow furrows. Seeing this, he explains, “I’m… I actually already started learning. It’s slow, but. There’s progress.”

Esther blinks.

Then, she smiles. “I’m happy to hear that.”

Cyril ducks his head, his ears slightly red.

The meal passes peacefully, the two of them exchanging few words but the atmosphere comfortable all the same.

It’s unfortunately broken when Esther remembers that she does, in fact, have other tasks to complete. She excuses herself with a hastily spoken goodbye, Cyril staring after her in puzzlement.

(Esther doesn’t, in fact, manage to make the time to speak with Claude that day.)

(She throws the spending report at Seteth late into the evening when most people are already asleep. Infuriatingly enough, he just gives an understanding nod.)

* * *

Esther comes to a conclusion: There is no "right moment" to talk to Claude.

She also comes to a decision: _ I’m just going to go the direct route and ask to speak to him in private. _

It could be more suspicious, yes, but almost three weeks have passed since she first made her decision, which is enough time wasted. When she’s alone, he’s busy or surrounded by others; when he’s alone, she’s doing chores and unable to talk to him.

She is also, apparently, prone to forgetting this _ rather important _ talk when she’s in the midst of other things, which is… embarrassing. Between busy work and the future of the continent, it should be obvious what takes precedence. The point is, her current tactics aren’t working.

Besides, suspicious or not, she doubts anyone would immediately jump to the conclusion that she’s planning for future events. And who would suspect a not-really noble from a fallen household to be plotting something with the heir to the Alliance?

Esther finds him with a few other students from his house—Hilda, Lysithea, and Ignatz—and walks up to him, mentally rolling up her sleeves and preparing herself.

Ignatz notices her first, greeting her with a smile. “Hi Esther. How has your day been?”

“Hello Ignatz, it’s been wonderful, thank you. Hello Lysithea, Hilda, I hope you have been well.” She turns to Claude, “Claude, I need speak with you.”

“_That _ doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

Lysithea shoots her a worried look. “Is something wrong? It seems serious, whatever it is.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Esther promises. “A little serious, but…”

Hilda blinks wide, curious eyes at her. “Huh. Well, what is it? Something about the class schedules, maybe? _ Oh, _ are we getting a day _ off?” _

“Unfortunately not. And, well, I was hoping to talk to Claude alone, about it?”

Hilda pouts, suddenly looking very forlorn at the information.

Claude grins. “Wow, so rushed to get me alone?”

Lysithea shoots him a look, and Hilda laughs.

Claude cradles his chin, as though in thought. “I know you were watching me during the mock battle, but really. Did you fall for my charming looks and riveting personality?”

_ … What? _

Esther’s smile freezes.

It’s at odds with the way her face is, she’s certain, suddenly on fire.

“... Wait, really?” Claude blinks. His expression shifts, troubled. “... Um, I’m flattered and all, but this is a little—“

“Wait!” Esther interrupts, finally gaining control of her voice. She wishes she could gain control of her heart rate, and her face. Her blood. _ Dear God. _ “J—just give me a chance. To speak with you, I mean. Please. Somewhere private.”

Four pairs of eyes with varying reactions stare at her. Hilda lets out a quiet, “Oooh…”

_ I don’t think I’ve ever felt this embarrassed in all my life. In any of my lives. _

Were it not concerning the future and a matter of life and death, Esther is certain she would have walked away at this point. Maybe ran.

Or died on the spot. Part of her might indeed be dying, actually.

The part of her that is maybe-dying wants to deny the misunderstanding. The more rational part of her mind, if also slightly hysteric, recognizes that this could be just the deflection she was looking for.

_ Of course. Of course. This is normal, hormones, crushes, realizations about ourselves, confusion! That’s just what teenagers do. What they deal with, I mean. Of course. _

They all deal with it. Esther included, because she is, also, a normal teenager. It’s all very normal.

As embarrassed as she is, _ certain _ people are definitely less likely to scrutinize any interactions she has if they think she’s just a besotted teen...

Esther can’t recall what happened after, and she’s certain it’s because the embarrassment actually overrode her brain. She doesn’t come to until she’s in Claude’s room, and she blinks at the change of scenery.

At least her face is no longer competing with the sun in temperature.

“Don’t mind the mess, just step over what you can.”

_ Huh, _ she thinks eloquently. It _ is _ a more ideal location than, say, somewhere out in the open, but she still wonders about this choice. She glances to the future Alliance leader.

He closes his door behind her, covering a yawn with his hand. He doesn’t seem nervous, but it’s good to know she’s not the only one not really capable of using her brain at the moment.

… Unless he _ wants _ rumors, which, she wouldn’t put it past him, somehow. He’d find a way to make most rumors useful in some way, even if she can’t fathom a use for the possible rumors that could come up from this.

She also doesn’t really believe he’d be fazed overmuch by what just happened. Still…

“Why your room?”

Claude doesn’t pause in his task of making his organized mess a little more organized. He glances to her. “You did say you wanted to talk alone, yeah?” He gestures to the now-cleared chair, “Go ahead and sit.”

Esther does so. “I did, but why not somewhere else? I’m surprised you felt comfortable enough to invite me to your room, all things considered.”

She watches Claude try to balance a precariously stacked pile of books, documents, and other things. “‘All things considered’. Not sure if you mean the ‘crush’ thing, the way you ‘crushed’ those bandits, or something else. But if it’s the former... I could tell you had something else you wanted to talk to me about.”

“How did you know?” The top four books of the tower start to slide. Esther’s hand shoots out to catch it before it falls, and she moves them to their own, more stable, pile.

Claude sits down in the chair opposite to her. “Call it... a hunch.”

Esther blinks. “A… hunch?”

“Even if I don’t know you all that well, I’ve heard about you around the monastery. And what I’ve heard makes you seem like a very diligent individual, with plenty of friends.” He shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like the type of person to develop a crush on someone you've interacted with, what, once? There are other factors, but that’s the gist of it.”

… That isn’t necessarily a wrong assumption to make, and it’s not like he could know her exact situation, but Esther does know him more than he thinks. There was that story—and, people who develop actual crushes on fictional characters probably exist. At the very least, admiration is to be expected.

Here, too, he should have plenty of admirers. Separate from her own circumstances, she finds it difficult to believe this would be something new to him.

“I’m sure you have many secret admirers you don’t know of.”

“Hah! Good one.” He shakes his head. “Didn’t take you to be one for jokes, but then, I did say we don’t know each other very well.”

That sounds strangely self-depreciating. “... I’m not sure what you mean?”

“What I mean? As in—well, it’s true that we don’t know each other.”

“No, I mean, why would my statement have been a joke?”

“... In terms of making jokes?”

“... But it wasn’t a joke?”

He blinks. “What?”

She blinks back. “Huh?”

They stare at each other.

_ … Did I make this conversation so awkward that I literally silenced one of the best wordsmiths at the monastery? _

It’s something of an accomplishment. Even if it’s distinctly lacking in praiseworthiness.

Esther tries for a smile. She gives herself an A for effort. “Anyway. You’re right, I did have something else to talk to you about.”

Claude clears his throat. “... Right. So?”

There is, literally, no way to go about this subtly. Esther lets her expression smooth over into a blank mask.

“I know things that you will need to know. In the future, the continent will be embroiled in a three way war, between the Alliance, the Holy Kingdom, and the Empire.”

He gives her a skeptical look. “... Is this a joke?”

His tone is entirely disbelieving, already convinced it’s a joke. Esther shakes her head. “I know what it sounds like, but it’s not a joke. I am being entirely serious. I, don’t even know how to begin explaining this, to be honest.”

_ I know the future. _ The words rest on the tip of her tongue, but she stops them from being voiced. They don’t… feel quite right.

“I know what will happen in the future,” she settles on. It still feels _ off, _but that’s not what’s important right now.

Claude’s expression is more serious, either realizing her own lack of humor, or a mask to conceal his real thoughts.

He replies after a few long seconds. “... Okay. Let’s say I believe you… Actually, no, scratch that, I can’t even suspend disbelief—why should I believe you? Do you have proof?”

“... I can’t really prove knowing the future, since that requires waiting to see if my ‘prediction’ comes true. So, I’ll tell you something else.” She pauses. “Also. I’ll tell you almost everything I know, but please don’t ask _ how _ I know.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Why?”

Esther thinks about her odd certainty about things in this world, and her lack of memories of either this life or the previous. “Because I don’t want to lie to you.”

Her answer gives him pause, but he nods.

_ Something else, _ Esther thinks, frowning. _ Not future events. Something else… _

She, technically, has many options to choose from, as far as ‘information she shouldn’t know’ goes. But she doesn’t want to tell him something that might make him suspicious and wary of her.

_ That might be impossible, though. _ Any useful information she has would be subject to scrutiny, and her whole _ issue _ is that her background is unknown even to her. Suspicion and wariness are things she herself feels. She can’t hope for anyone else that knows what she knows to not feel the same, too.

Still, she doesn’t want him so wary that he suspects her every word or move, but she also wants to choose something concrete enough so he doesn’t think she’s making something up and depending on luck.

Mentioning that he’s the crown prince of Almyra is no good, because that’s information that anyone can obtain with enough digging. She doesn’t want to bring up his past since that’s a little too _ personal. _ That kind of information coming from an otherwise complete stranger would be unsettling, at best. On that line of thought, his dream of bringing down the cultural divide also isn’t…

_ Ah. _

Esther smiles. “You want to end racism.”

Claude lifts an eyebrow.

“More specifically, you tend to call yourself an outsider. You have both Almyran and Fodlan heritage, and you have experienced alienation from both sides throughout your life. Because of what you’ve seen with your own eyes, you want to break the generations of prejudices that form that barrier between the nations.” Esther ticks points off on her hand. “To do that, you have your sights on Fodlan’s Locket—which is, of course, only one obstacle of many, but the fortress represents the physical barrier that needs to be taken down before the social barriers can be dealt with. Right? Start with important characters from both sides. Holst Goneril and a general of the Almyran army, maybe Nader the Undefeated. They’d be your first step—if the heads of the respective militaries could get to know each other, realize they aren’t so different, it would be a large step taken towards your goal.”

Esther takes a breath. “Of course, having them meet as things are would be too dangerous. It would also need to be done blind—if they know who the other is, they will definitely attack first, ask questions later.”

When she turns to look at Claude, his expression is unreadable. He wears a lazy smile and sits comfortably in his seat, looking for all the world like he’s listening to a boring lecture in class. _ He really hides his thoughts well. _

He eyes her for a moment, then shrugs. “All right, I’ll bite. I’ll listen for now.”

Esther stares. She was sure she would have needed to explain more. “... Really?”

“I can already guess your thought process. If you told me something about my birth, then I could argue that it’s information that’s available to anyone desperate enough. Telling me all of _ that, _ specifically, highlights that while you do know that sort of information, you also have the reasoning to use it in a way to predict outcomes and future actions.” He makes a short gesture, “Which would resolve yet another argument I could have given: that knowing information from the past or present doesn’t mean you know the _ future.” _

Esther isn’t surprised, she’s known that Claude is a genius with a mind beyond most others. But still… To have her reasoning, and beyond, laid out for her like this.

_ It’s definitely eye-opening. _

It’s not her _ exact _ thought process, of course—he doesn’t seem to believe that she knows the future, rather thinks it’s her reasoning skills—but it’s still accurate.

Esther has succeeded in getting Claude to hear her out. She doesn’t know where the hell to begin.

“I don’t know where to begin,” she says candidly. “There’s a lot.”

Claude snorts. “I bet. Why don’t you start with how this future ‘war’ starts, and then you can provide the details surrounding it?”

She considers it, and nods. It’s probably her best bet in covering everything important. _ I should have written this down. _

“Edelgard will ascend to the throne as the emperor of the Adrestian Empire. Using her position, on the surface, she will be the one to start the war. The reason why she starts the war is because she despises the crest-based hierarchy. It started from. Er.” Esther pauses, “Do you know about crest experiments?”

He shakes his head.

“Oh. Well, there’s a group of individuals, the Agarthans…” She trails off, a thought occurring to her.

She’s been calling them “Agarthans” since that’s what they were called before, but she doesn’t know if they still consider themselves Agarthan or if that’s what they call their ancestors. At the very least, she’s pretty sure “Those Who Slither In the Dark” isn’t what they call themselves. That name is also too long for her to bother with.

She shakes her head. “The Agarthans have been conducting experiments for years. I don’t have concrete evidence, but it’s likely they’ve been experimenting since they were first…” She blinks. “Okay, backing up further, they performed many experiments on crests and blood. They were the ones who created… the…”

… Created the relics which were made from the Nabateans they slaughtered in response to the battle between Nabateans and Agarthans. Which is a simple statement, in theory, but it needs a _ lot _ of background information, and that’s not even her focus right now. These are auxiliary details that can explain the war, but Claude needs to know the _ foremost _ issues, first.

“You all right there?”

Esther holds her head. “I’ll, uh, tell you the specifics about the actual origins of crests, Fodlan’s history, and the rest… _ after _ we discuss this. Anyway, the crest experiments were done to see if individuals that already have crests could be given a second, Major crest. It isn’t definitive but the process is generally taxing enough that survivors of the experiments are left with shortened lifespans and white hair. The white hair is a reaction to the strain on the body, so it’s possible that there are those who were subjected to the experiments and didn’t have their hair turned, but… ugh.”

She’s digressing. Again.

She folds her hands on the table, frowning. “Anyway. Edelgard and her siblings were victims of these experiments. She’s against the church because she believes it to be the source of the class divide in Fodlan, which led to these experiments.”

Esther pauses, going over the words she spoke. She turns to Claude. “Did that make sense?”

His expression is still unreadable, but he nods. “Crystal clear.”

“Okay. So, right now Edelgard is planning to start a war. Tomas, Volkhard von Arundel, and Cornelia of the Holy Kingdom. They are on her side, in the sense that they also want the church destroyed, and so are working with her. They’re part of the group that conducted the experiments to begin with, and as far as I know, they are capable of impersonating others. I don’t know how they do that, but I assume it has to do with Agarthan magic and technology.”

_ Something to look in to, _ she mentally notes.

A breath. “Edelgard plans to inherit the throne from her father sometime next year. The procedures are already in motion. She will eventually use a disguise called the 'Flame Emperor' to carry out her plans… Actually, I’m certain she’s already masquerading under that name. Oh, in fact, the excursion, when you guys were separated…” She trails off.

Claude waits for her to continue. When she doesn’t, he raises an eyebrow. “Thinking?”

Esther shakes her head. Claude opens his mouth to ask just as two consecutive knocks ring out through the room.

“Sorry for interrupting! Are you done confessing your heartfelt love?”

Claude shakes his head with a short laugh. “What is it, Hilda?”

She pops her head in, pink hair swaying. “Oh, I’m just here to play messenger, even though I’m _ so _ busy. Esther, Seteth is looking for you right now.”

Her words are addressed to Esther, but her gaze is on Claude. Esther glances to him—he stares back at Hilda, expression back to that loosely smiling mask. He settled back into his seat, at some point.

Esther glances back and forth a few times. She nods, standing.

She turns to address Claude. “Then… I’ll, talk to you later?”

For a second, something flashes in his eyes. He responds with a relaxed smile. “Of course.”

He sees her out, the two of them exchanging perfunctory goodbyes. Esther moves to leave, nodding Hilda’s way, when the other girl quickly falls into step with her.

“I’ll walk you there,” she says happily.

“... You don’t need to walk me out,” Esther says, shooting her a confused look. “I don’t mind the company, but you said you were busy.”

“I’ll just walk you part-way, then! And don’t worry, I _ want _ to walk with you.”

_ Huh. _Esther glances behind them. “It looked like you needed to talk to Claude about something, though?”

Hilda laughs. “Oh, no, I was just trying to figure out what happened, is all! Claude is soo hard to read, sometimes. He’s super secretive.”

“I… see.”

Hilda ends up walking her to the reception hall before they split paths, and they chat about odd topics here and there on the way. Before leaving, she stares at Esther in a way that feels like being put under a microscope.

And then she smiles, saying a quick “seeya!” as she leaves.

Esther watches her go, dumbfounded.

_ … I think I’m more at a loss for words now than when I was talking to Claude. _

She shakes her head, walking into the hall.

Her conversation with Claude, objectively, went as well as she could have hoped. Obviously, there were issues that she’ll need to address next time.

Esther has major gaps in her memory. This has already been established. She knows the story that resembles this world, and that has also been established.

One of the things she can’t remember, however, is _ reading _ that story.

She thinks she did, because there’s no other reason for her to know what she does. But if she can remember the progression of events, why can’t she remember looking down at a page and reading the words? Why does she have the information, but not the memory of gaining it?

It’s… odd, to say the least. She has wondered about it in passing, vague suspicions here and there, but it was never more apparent to her than in her conversation with Claude. Before, she didn’t think too deeply on it—after all, she has the knowledge, and isn’t that what’s important?

She shakes her head. _ Whatever media I gained it from doesn’t matter. _

Regardless of the source, she has the knowledge. And she will have to adapt and learn to use what she knows as she is confronted with new situations.

Her not remembering the text is probably why she had such an issue verbalizing what she knows. There’s no order to her knowledge, and she was trying to organize it all on the spot. It felt a little like knowing the history of the world and suddenly being asked to sum up the reasons why and how an empire took over the continent—various offshoot information is needed, first.

_ It’ll be too difficult to cover everything verbally. _

She has a better chance putting it all on paper and having him read it. Having physical evidence of her knowledge is exceedingly dangerous, though, so it’d be safest to refrain from recording it until she’s about to see him next.

_ I should also hide it amongst my notes when I’m bringing it to him, _ she thinks. _ Can’t let it fall in other hands, so I should burn it after we’re done, too. _

Esther walks to Seteth’s office, growing increasingly troubled.

_ Maybe I should put it in code too, or something... _

* * *

The Black Eagles head to Remire village to clear out the remaining bandits.

The Blue Lions are tasked with confronting the main force that fled, including the leader, but Esther and the class need to secure Remire and ensure that the villagers are safe. They depart from the monastery in the early morning.

The students chat amongst themselves as they travel. Everyone is there, today, even Linhardt and Bernadetta, though the former looks asleep on his feet and the latter keeps jumping at shadows. Esther watches her friends and classmates with a relaxed mindset.

Dorothea sighs.

“Are you worried at all? It’s the first mission for the Black Eagles.”

Edelgard nods. “Of course I am worried. However, I also have confidence in our abilities. A small group of bandits will be no issue.”

Dorothea frowns. “That’s true… but I don’t know, I’m still worried. I didn’t go on the excursion so I wasn’t there when everything went, well. Bad.”

“That’s putting it rather nicely.”

“I know, right? At least no one was seriously injured.” She shakes her head. “That’s why I’m worried, though. We can’t depend on luck.”

“It’ll be fine,” Esther says. “This time, the force is expected to be even smaller than our own, only the stragglers. Professor Manuela is here with us this time, too.”

“And you as well,” Edelgard points out, amused.

Dorothea latches onto Esther’s arm, laughing. “That’s true! You’ll be sure to protect us if things go wrong, right? You’ll protect me?” 

Esther turns to smile at Dorothea, amused—

\- And then she abruptly pulls away, turning the other direction. Her eyes are wide, and her heart trips over into a rate twice as fast as normal.

Her face isn’t as red as she knows it is capable of, but she knows it’s still visible.

“... Esther?”

Esther shakes her head. She takes a breath, counts to five, and breathes out steadily.

She turns back to her friends with a smile that is thankfully natural. Her heartbeat is still a little _ off, _ though.

“Er… Sorry for grabbing your arm so suddenly?” Dorothea looks at her, sheepish. “I must have startled you.”

There’s a hint of hurt in her tone. Esther quickly shakes her head. “No, it’s fine, it’s…”

Her words stop. She doesn’t know how to say, “no I’m okay I just remembered how attractive you are,” without sounding like a creep. 

“... Battle nerves,” She finishes, helpless.

The uncertainty in Dorothea’s eyes goes away at that, at least. The conversation resumes easily enough, and Esther rechecks her face to make sure her face is a normal color.

_ How embarrassing. _

Dorothea is attractive, and she’s known this since the first day they met. She could describe the specifics, but again, trying not to sound like a creep. Dorothea is her _ friend. _

… Which is the mindset she’s adopted regarding everyone else around her, too, because pretty much _ everyone _ she knows at the monastery is attractive. To a frankly ridiculous extent.

It was never a particular issue, and there’s nothing she could do about it even if it was. Willfully adopting ignorance is how Esther has managed to distance herself from that fact. But it’s definitely something, when all of your friends are attractive enough to make your heart skip a beat the moment you forget just how attractive they are.

She sighs. _ Claude, too. _

She hadn’t immediately realized the reason for his belief, before, on the topic of admirers. But later, she recalled the rather _ blatant _ fact that Claude von Riegan’s history is of isolation on all sides, hence his goal. This absolutely explains his skepticism on the previous subject, and Esther would normally feel embarrassed about an oversight like this, but…

Most everyone Esther knows is attractive. Claude is _ definitely _ part of that grouping.

Prejudices aside, it can’t be denied that he’s attractive. That’s why she’s certain he does have admirers, somewhere. Probably several. How can he _ not? _

Actually, Esther would be surprised if any of her friends _ didn’t _ have admirers. She _ knows _ Dorothea does, and she’s reasonably certain Edelgard does as well. Linhardt, even Caspar—if Bernadetta spent more time around people, she would surely have admirers. She’s hardly shown her face in any social setting and she already has people hoping to befriend her.

_ Ferdinand likely has a few admirers himself, he certainly has the looks for it. Hubert… You know what. I’m sure he does too. _ Esther narrows her eyes in his direction. _ It’s a different kind, but a kind of attractiveness all the same. He could probably use a different hair style, though. _

She pauses. _ … Maybe everyone’s collective attractiveness is the issue? _

It would make sense. If everyone is attractive, then the baseline for attractiveness would be higher. So maybe Claude really wouldn’t have as many admirers as she assumes.

_ But he doesn’t lose out to a lot of people. Dorothea, sure, but he still ranks pretty highly... Though I guess that’s more my personal opinion than anything objective. _

She’s brought back to the real world when Dorothea nudges her side. “You look like you’re deep in thought. What’s on your mind?”

_ The fact that everyone I know is impossibly attractive, _ Esther thinks.

“Nothing,” Esther says.

They arrive at Remire before noon and learn the details of the situation. There were indeed residual bandit attacks, though their numbers were larger than expected for a group believed to have split off from the original force. Most likely, a smaller, less organized group decided to capitalize off of the attack that weakened the village’s defenses.

They’re pointed in the direction that the bandits are suspected to be. They never reach the supposed base, because they find the group they’re after in the middle of a clearing.

They don’t approach with strategy so much as storm the scene. The moment Caspar sees the bandits, he charges in, Ferdinand not much better. Esther almost finds it in herself to be exasperated until she sees the others follow suit. Even Edelgard.

Esther exchanges a look with Manuela. The older woman shrugs.

Esther stops on the edge of the clearing-turned-battlefield, gauging the scene. She reaches out with her magic, shaping the winds, thinking back to her previous applications of the technique. None of the bandits are knocked out this way—her concentration is split, and it’s significantly more difficult to form the vacuum when her targets are moving.

_ I’ll just have to practice more. _ Esther unsheathes her blade and leaps into the conflict.

The bandits are only twelve strong and clearly lacking training, so it’s not surprising when the Black Eagles emerge victorious in short order. Esther cleans what she can of her blade with a leaf, wondering how many people she’s killed at this point.

She’s no longer particularly fazed by this, though the feeling of blood is still gross. Still, she did better this time—she’s pretty sure the only gear she’ll have to replace is her gloves.

Esther decides that she didn’t do too badly for her second time in actual battle. She’ll obviously need to continue training, but she feels that the improvement is there. She’s killed many, of course, but prior to Garreg Mach, most had been from utilizing surprise attacks and other tactics. It’s different in the heat of battle—tracking the enemy, allies, and projectiles adds another layer of difficulty to it all. 

The battle haze is still there, but she was much more focused here than the last battle. Esther swings her sword once, then sheathes it. _ I’m getting more efficient, I think. _

She looks over the other students, making sure there are no injuries. She walks over to Caspar and Dorothea when she notices the former on the ground, head resting on his hand.

“Are you two okay?”

Dorothea startles a bit, relaxing when she sees Esther. “Oh, Esther. Yeah, we’re… Fine.”

_ … That doesn’t sound fine. _Esther eyes her for a moment, glancing to Caspar. Neither are injured, but…

“... It’s hard.”

Both of them turn to Caspar when he speaks. He runs a hand through his hair, then winces as he registers the blood on his hands. “I’ve been training all my life, but this is different. I shouldn’t hesitate, I shouldn’t think about it, but it’s… it’s hard _ not _ to, y’know?” He stares down at the dirt, frowning. “This doesn’t make me weak, does it?”

It occurs to Esther, then. She looks around, gauging the expressions—not just checking for injuries—of everyone else. 

Hubert and Edelgard appear better than the rest, but their energy is visibly dragging, as well. They all look, in a word, drained.

_ This is the first time they’ve killed. _

Esther’s thoughts go back to the battle, more one-sided killing. She used her sword this time, rather than fire. Death by immolation is significantly more agonizing to die from than the quick strike of a blade, but that’s not why she chose to use her sword today. It wasn’t out of mercy.

She hadn’t even considered it, really.

Esther opens her mouth. “I think you’re stronger to be able to feel. When you stop feeling, stop acknowledging your enemies as people, then you’re no better than a monster.”

She’s aware of the fact that the others have gone quiet.

“We always have to take the time to stop, and consider, our actions. We have to ask ourselves what’s right or wrong. The fact you’re wondering about it can indicate inexperience, but that’s not weakness. I think this is something we should always consider.” Her finger taps the pommel of her sword. “After all, we don’t start with all the answers in the world. It’s only by living and experiencing new things that we learn. So, each new bit of knowledge needs to be applied each time we self-assess.”

Liar. Hypocrite.

Esther breathes._ I’m long overdue for any ‘self-assessment’. _

She wonders if she should be critical of the fact that she doesn’t really… care. She keeps her attention on Edelgard, even as she holds a hand out and smiles.

Caspar glances to her hand and, with a huff, lets her pull him back up to his feet. Dorothea manages a half-hearted smile when Esther looks her way.

Esther asks Manuela if they could bury the bodies, more for her friends than herself. When Manuela hesitates, she says it would probably be less of a biohazard if they’re decomposing _ under _ground rather than over, and Manuela relents.

It’s not like they have anything else to do that day, and they have the weekend free. No one objects to the idea.

Everyone is still unsettlingly quiet as they’re filling the burial site. Esther turns to Dorothea with a smile.

“Do you think someone will do this for me when _ I _ inevitably die an unremarkable death on the battlefield?”

Dorothea turns to her with wide eyes, mouth opening and closing—Esther laughs when a hard punch is sent to her arm. “Unbelievable! Don’t make jokes like that, no one will die.”

“You never know…”

“Please, a couple mercenaries and bandits aren’t going to beat _ you. _” Dorothea rolls her eyes. “It would take a lot more than that. Besides, it’s not like we’re at war.”

The comment makes Esther’s smile go lopsided. _ Not at war... _

Unintentionally, she glances to Edelgard, a small pressure in her chest.

Their eyes meet. Edelgard startles, eyes going wide, and her head whips to the sides before she composes herself. Then, she lifts a hand in a wave, wearing a tentative smile.

Esther chokes on a snort, smiling back. The pressure is gone.

On the way back to the monastery, the group is quieter than before. But they walk closer, too.

Esther finds an urge, and acts on it.

A pat on the shoulder. A nudge to the side. She gets some odd looks for the contact, but for the most part, the gestures are reciprocated, if awkwardly.

“Oh, geez.” Dorothea sidles up to her, slipping her hands around Esther’s arm.

Esther stares for a beat, then lifts her hand to grasp Dorothea’s.

Dorothea stares down out their hands. After a moment, she snorts, shaking her head.

_ There’s no point in getting stuck on it, _ she decides.

Esther has killed, and she’s killed many. But it’s not like she’s killed hundreds of thousands, nor does she feel nothing. She just handles the situations as they come. She still has her humanity. And, she has her friends.

Her hands aren’t only for killing. She tightens her grip around Dorothea’s hand, ever so slightly. She’s warm. Alive.

Her sensing ability is an unconscious thing at this point, reaching out to the others. Caspar walks beside her, Linhardt on his other side. Edelgard and Hubert walk in front of them. Ferdinand, Petra, and Bernadetta walk to the side of Dorothea, Manuela behind them all.

A dead body does not have a presence, she knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is nearly 50 pages, the next chapter is already 20 pages and i’m not halfway done. pls end me. why do i suck at tracking wordcount. actually i know why it's bc i'm having too much fun making esther interact with everyone i want gjfdklgfjfg
> 
> i accidentally did the 50k wordcount for nano LOL…. even tho i don’t have a nanowrimo account. it’s the thought that counts. i made the 50k so it counts
> 
> also  



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